Cassandra
by Saddletramp
Summary: Continuation of the BETH series. – When Jess rescues the new school teacher, she shoots him. This is Jess' introduction to his late wife's best friend - an introduction which leads to much misunderstanding, and a tenuous friendship torn apart by lies and false accusations. Jess struggles with letting go of Brianna's ghost as he learns to live and love again.


**CASSANDRA**

(Continuation of the BETH series. – Jess is a widower with a son – Marcus. Katie is married to Luke Stone. Slim and Beth are married with a son – Nate.) There's a new teacher in town. Although Jess rescues her from a runaway horse, their personalities are like oil and water. There's only a quiet interlude where they get along before lies and false speculation put them at odds again. When Jess' son, Marcus, is punished in school for something he didn't do, fireworks of Harper proportions explode.

**CHAPTER ONE – LADY IN DISTRESS**

Jess Harper rode towards home at a slow, easy walk. He'd trained the young buckskin he was riding and called him Thunder because of the sound of his hoof beats. Jess liked the horse because he was solid and dependable – and a thinker – if that could be said of a horse. Just like his old mount, Traveler, Thunder had gotten him out of more scrapes than one. And the horse had 'sand' – there was no quit in him. Thunder was now his regular horse, having given his faithful mount Traveler, to his stepdaughter who had then passed him on to her younger brother, Marc. Thunder moved along at a solid walk, although his head was beginning to droop lower to the ground due to fatigue. Just like his horse, Jess was dog-tired, dirty, and grumpy to boot. He'd just spent four days riding posse for Mort Cory, the Laramie Sheriff. He'd gotten little to no sleep as they chased a murderer through the Wyoming countryside. They had finally run the outlaw to ground and captured him without further incident. Normally, he would have ridden on into Laramie with Mort. However, when they came to the fork in the road which would take them either into town or towards Jess' home – the Sherman-Harper Ranch – Mort had waved him off, releasing him from duty.

Now, he could only think of the hot bath and cool bed waiting for him at home. With his stepdaughter Katie now married and on her own, his remaining responsibility was to his eight-year-old son, Marcus. Marc, as he was called, was spending a few days with a school chum's family. Mrs. Wells, their trustworthy housekeeper, had taken the opportunity to go on a well-earned vacation. He'd have the house to himself. He liked the sound of that. It was rare when he was alone or had time to do nothing, and he had to admit, he still enjoyed the occasional solitude.

Thunder's head suddenly came up, his nostrils flaring in and out, as he smelled the air. Jess had been half dozing in the saddle but became instantly alert. He could hear the buggy well before he could see it. Both he and Thunder tensed, knowing the buggy was traveling too fast for safety. As yet, he didn't know if they were about to encounter a run-away horse, or a careless driver. In moments, a buggy came into view. Jess could see that it was a woman driving the rig, someone who continued to look over her shoulder as if being pursued. However, Jess knew that if the driver continued on at their reckless speed, they'd end up in a heap around the next bend in the road. There was no way she'd make it around the next corner at that speed. Barely needing to cue his horse, Thunder turned and leaped into a gallop, straining to catch up to the now run-away buggy. Jess reached over to grab the run-away's reins, slowly bringing both horses to a standstill.

He didn't even have time to turn to inquire as to the occupant's welfare before he felt the sting of a whip striking him repeatedly. He spun around, grabbing the buggy whip, and jerking it from the woman's hands before tossing it well away from him. Dadgum – she hadn't used the whip on the horse, but she'd been quite liberal using it on him.

"Lady, what the con-sarn dickens you think you're doin'?" he growled.

"You stay away from me." She challenged. Although she was putting on a brave face, he could tell she was terribly frightened. He fleetingly noticed the silk blouse clinging to her body and the split riding skirt hugging some delectable curves. Although she was pale from fear, she had very attractive features. She had lost her hat in her frenzied flight and her chocolate mane of hair was tantalizingly disheveled, having escaped from the ribbon holding it back from her face. Realizing he was both dirty and unshaven, he figured his appearance was only adding to her fright. Thinking he'd be less intimidating on foot, he dismounted to approach the buggy.

"You stay away. I know how to use this." He had to give her points for bravado as she was pointing a derringer at him. Before he could say or do anything, it went off. He spun with the impact of the bullet, falling to the ground. Swearing a blue streak, he grabbed his arm where she had creased him, at the same time regaining his feet. When he looked up, he could see her struggling to cock the derringer again. Growling, he reached out, grabbed the weapon from her, sending it in the same direction as he had flung the whip. Her reaction was to grab the reins and attempt to send her horse on its way again.

Despite the tingling in his arm, he had a firm grip on the reins, preventing her from fleeing.

"Lady, I ain't gonna hurt ya none." He tried to explain. "I just wanted to stop ya from killing yourself going around the next bend. At the speed you was going, you'd have rolled the buggy for sure."

She had scooted as far away from him as possible and still remain in the buggy.

"Just what happened, anyway?" he asked. "You sure looked like someone was after you."

"You're . . .You're not one of them?" She asked in a trembling voice.

"One of who?"

"Whom. The correct term is whom." She corrected him, her fear starting to fade. She suddenly looked afraid again, glancing nervously up the road. "Some…someone was chasing me." She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I don't know who they were, or even if they meant no harm. I just got scared and took off. Then, the horse got the bit in his teeth and got away from me."

Jess knew she was speaking the truth, but not the whole truth. Something didn't ring true about what she said – or rather the way she said it.

"Let go of my horse." She instructed firmly. Her body was rigid, trying to hide her fear of the recent events and his nearness because she still wasn't sure whether he meant her any harm.

When Jess released his grip on the reins, she urged the horse into a safe and steady walk. As she drove away, her heart thudded in her chest. She was sure he could hear it pounding. She wasn't sure whether the pounding was due to her fright, the thrill of meeting someone she assumed was an outlaw, or her attraction to the mysterious man. She resisted the urge to turn to look at him again, only then realizing she didn't even know his name. Beneath that dirt and scruffy look, she was certain he was an attractive man – because he certainly was attractive while being dirty and scruffy. She tried to quell the thrill that coursed through her – she'd just met her first outlaw. Surely, that's what he was. His voice was low, his body like a coiled spring – and he wore his gun low and tied down. The penny novels she'd read back east had described him perfectly. She sighed over the possibilities; certain she'd never cross paths with the outlaw again.

She was nearly out of sight when Jess began to feel how much his arm hurt and noticed his sleeve now soaked with blood. Great, he thought to himself. Just what I need and there ain't no one ta home to bandage it. He opened a couple buttons on his shirt and slid his hand inside, creating support for the wounded arm. Then he collected Thunder's reins, mounted, and headed for home.

**CHAPTER TWO– ROUND TWO**

The hot bath and cool bed had indeed felt as good as Jess thought they would. So good, in fact, that he had fallen asleep and slept until almost noon the following day. Luckily, he actually had a few days off from ranch work and could do as he pleased. He had several home projects he wanted to accomplish but his first attempt at moving his arm ended those prospects. He'd bandaged it as best he could with one hand, but it was red and swollen. Damn, he thought, he'd have to ride into Laramie and see the doc. Beth and Slim were in town for the week so there still was no one home to care for his wound. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew how dangerous the redness and swelling could be. Not one to run to a doctor until something was life threatening, he had at least learned that there were times to seek help.

Sighing heavily, he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. He could tell it was going to be "one of those days" when he arrived in town to discover Dr. Hanson was out delivering a baby and it was unknown when he'd return. Eleanor, the doctor's wife, offered to bandage his arm for him. She had taken care of him several times since his arrival in Laramie and he knew her to be an excellent nurse. She tisk-tisked at him upon seeing the wound. It was a deep crease and would probably need stitches so he would have to return when Dr. Hanson was back. In the meantime, she treated it as best she could and wrapped it for him, warning him to drink some willow bark tea to ward off infection. The sling she'd given him only lasted until he cleared the doorway, discarding it as soon as the door was closed behind him.

Leaving the doctor's office, he made his way over to Beth's General Store. His sister-in-law smiled when she saw him enter.

"'Morning, Beth," He greeted her. "You got a work shirt to fit me? I wrecked my last clean one riding posse and I don't have time to do laundry – and Mrs. Wells won't be back until the end of the week," he said indicating he was wearing one of his dress shirts. Beth smiled at how Jess had changed since she had known him. Slim had told her how when Jess had first come to the ranch, he owned two, maybe three shirts, that he'd wear until they were threadbare. He'd repair and patch them until they bore no semblance to the original. Now her husband's partner felt financially secure enough to purchase a new shirt when one was required. Although, he still held off buying something new until he had no other choice. Laughing, she showed him over to a pile of shirts, which she rummaged through, bringing up several she figured would fit him.

"So, what did you do this time – snag it on a branch?" She dropped the shirt in her hand and lost her smile when he looked away, unwilling to answer. She thought she heard him say something behind an artificial cough.

"What'd you say?" she asked suspiciously, eyeing him for any visible injury.

"I said gunshot" but his voice dropped so low she strained to hear it as he coughed artificially again.

"Jess" she said, drawing out his name.

He rolled his eyes before saying. "Now, don't go getting your britches in a knot. I been over to Dr. Hanson's and got all bandaged up. It's just a graze, nothing serious."

Her hands were on her hips now. "Um hmmmm." She intoned. "Dr. Hanson's out of town so you only had Eleanor to patch you up. Let me see it." She said grabbing for the arm he had unconsciously protected. She knew Eleanor would have done a professional job but wanted to see for herself just how seriously he was hurt. For Jess, a gunshot wound could be anything from a slight crease to a through and through. He didn't differentiate between the different injuries.

He brushed her hands away. "Just give me the dad gummed shirt." He growled. He knew she'd fuss over him worse than Eleanor Hanson had, and he just didn't feel like being nurse-maided right now. He snatched the rust colored shirt from her hands and stalked towards the back room. He wasn't about to change shirts in the middle of the store, and he couldn't keep wearing his good shirt – he was too accident prone for that. Beth let him go and turned to wait on the customer who had just entered the store.

Beth began tallying up the things the customer placed on the counter. She was only half listening, as the woman prattled on about some hooligans chasing her buggy and then accosted by a stranger riding a buckskin horse that she was certain was an outlaw. She's seen how he wore his rigging. He must have been on the run because he was so unkempt and he had frightened her for sure. She'd even shot him, only to have him take her derringer away. Beth's hand had gone still upon hearing 'buckskin' followed by 'shot him'. Jess rode a buckskin horse and had a fresh gunshot wound.

Just then, Jess emerged from the back room. His dress shirt draped over his shoulder, he was finishing tucking his shirt in. "Hey, Beth, we good for . . . "

He never got to finish his sentence as he heard someone yell "YOU! You stay away from me!" before ducking the glass jar of jaw breaker candies which crashed into the door frame beside his head. It was immediately followed by another jar the woman had snatched from the store's counter. She was screaming something unintelligible about outlaws overtaking the town. Jess rushed forward in an attempt to grab the woman before she did some serious damage to the store or his person. Terrified of the man approaching her, the woman grabbed a broom from the near-by barrel and proceeded to beat him with the handle end. He had instinctively raised his arm to protect himself, letting loose a howl when she brought the broomstick down directly on his freshly bandaged wound.

Jess rolled away, cradling his injured arm, feeling the broom handle continually striking his back. Then he saw red. Turning back towards his assailant, he one handedly wrenched the object away from her. When he grabbed her wrists, she began yelling for the sheriff. He tried to talk to her, calm her, but she dissolved into hysterical screaming while frantically struggling to free herself from his grip. Afraid she'd hurt herself – or him – and fed up with her screaming accusations, he grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder. If possible, she screeched even more loudly while kicking her legs furiously, beating on him with her fists, and calling him every name she could think of. Jess carried her out of the door where he unceremoniously dropped her in the nearest water trough. There was no mistaking his fury when he yelled, "Maybe that'll cool you off." Her screams ceased with the unexpected dunking, although she cleared the water's surface only to fill the air with additional threats against him and calling for the sheriff. Townspeople turned to gawk at the goings-on.

The woman was still sitting in the trough, spitting, and sputtering when Mort Cory arrived at the scene. Although he tried his best to keep a straight face, he finally had to give in and laugh – just a little – until he could control himself. He graciously waded through the crowd to assist the woman out of the water, noticing just how composed she was even though she was spitting mad. He cast a questioning eye at Jess but frowned with what he saw. Jess was favoring one arm, a dark stain slowly spreading across his sleeve. He wondered what had happened in the time since they had parted ways. Jess had been uninjured when he had turned to head for home. Mort was once again all Sheriff as he asked what had happened.

The woman introduced herself as Cassandra Peterson and expounded upon the horrible things _that_ man had done from his indiscretion the prior day, causing her to shoot him, to dumping her in the water trough. During her tirade, Jess had retreated to the back room of Beth's store.

"Jess." Beth called softly as she came to his side. "Let me look at your arm, it's bleeding again. You just got it bandaged. Please let me look at it." Normally reticent in being fussed over, he nodded and started unbuttoning his shirt, carefully sliding it off his shoulder for her to look at the bandage. After his entanglement with the barbed wire fence, she had doctored him, and he now had no problems with her seeing his upper body bare. She'd seen the multiple scars, a reminder of the life he led before landing up at the Sherman Ranch, and they didn't bother her at all. She never asked him to explain any of them, accepting them as she accepted him. Now, especially in situations like this when he needed assistance, he found it comforting that she had never seemed repelled by them.

Beth knew he'd never admit to hurting, but the way he sat on the keg, leaning against the shelving told her he was, indeed, in pain. His face was ashen, and his breathing changed so much she thought he was going to pass out. She doctored it as best she could and wrapped it in a clean bandage, offering him another new shirt, which he declined. Jess was just tucking his shirt back into his pants when Mort called from the front of the store.

Jess still cradled his injured arm as they both emerged from the back to meet Mort and the indignant woman.

"Miss Peterson," Mort began, "I'd like you to meet Jess Harper, one of my Deputies." Jess couldn't help flickering a look at Mort. He was Mort's sometime Deputy – not his full time Deputy – unless he'd gotten a promotion he wasn't aware of. Miss Peterson looked back and forth between Beth, Jess, and Mort.

"You mean," she began. "You mean this – this man is a Deputy?" She asked incredulously. Her face turned an interesting shade of red as Jess reached into his pocket and produced his Deputy's badge. She glanced from the badge up to take a good look at the man she had been afraid of just moments earlier. Now that he was clean-shaven, he wasn't near as frightening as he had seemed yesterday. He was a full head taller than herself, even though she wore heels. He had dark, wavy hair and dark blue eyes that looked deep into your soul and a body that filled out that new shirt most agreeably. She stopped herself from assessing the rest of him as the Sheriff answered her question.

"Yes, Ma'am." Mort answered. "He's also a former Sheriff from out in California, but he came back to make his home here. When you encountered each other yesterday, he was just headed home from a four-day posse ride. I've no doubt he was as scruffy as you described. And he's no gunman – at least not like you're thinking, not anymore. But make no mistake, Jess and his partner, Slim Sherman, are the best shots in the county."

"Well, then, I'm afraid I owe you an apology." She held out her hand for him to shake. "I am truly sorry for what I thought about you and I'm sorry I shot you. I hope you'll be okay."Jess shook her hand warily while muttering something about being just fine. Her hand lingered in his a little longer than necessary before she turned to leave.

However, Miss Peterson was taken aback when the Sheriff lightly grasped her elbow, preventing her from leaving. Addressing his Deputy, the Sheriff asked. "Jess, you want to press charges for Miss Peterson shooting you?"

Miss Peterson's mouth flew open as she stared at the Sheriff. She couldn't believe her ears – they were making her out to be the villain. Her strong will and indignation resurfaced. She exclaimed she should be pressing charges against Mr. Harper. After all, he had accosted her in the first place. She'd shot him in self-defense. And then he had assaulted her and dumped her in the water trough. He was the one, Deputy or not, who should be locked up – not her.

Mort looked at her for a moment before stating in his low, easy way. "You mean to tell me that while you were fleeing someone chasing you, which only you seem to have seen, you lost control of your buggy horse. Jess saved you from a wreck. Instead of thanking him or waiting for him to introduce himself, you took a buggy whip to him. Now, I'm pretty sure Jess was still wearing his badge when we parted ways – and you weren't that far down the road. Then, when he dismounted, you shot him. . . "

"It was an accident." She interrupted. "It went off. I didn't mean to shoot him."

"Um hmm," answered Mort, noticing Jess leaning against the counter, arms crossed, straight faced, but thoroughly enjoying the discomfiture of his attacker. "Now your story has gone from you shot him to the gun went off. Be that as it may, it doesn't explain your unprovoked attack on him here in the store. You threw no less than two jars at him with the intent to do bodily harm. Then you physically attacked him with a broom – and it looks like you caused some damage – he's bleeding. Did he approach you in any manner which seemed threatening?"

"I just saw him come in from the back room and reacted."

"You reacted?" Mort questioned. "What made you think he didn't have every right to be here? Did he threaten or harm you in any way? Hit you or otherwise attack you when you were beating on him?"

"He grabbed my wrists." She exclaimed defiantly, unwilling to back down.

"Did he grab your wrists before or after you attacked him? Was he trying to hurt you physically or trying to stop you from hurting him?"

"I don't know. I was still upset over the road incident and just – just – reacted. But he had no call to pick me up and dump me in the water trough!"

"And just what would you have suggested he do to stop you from beating on him? Hmmmm? According to several witnesses, you were hysterical and beyond being reasoned with. Would you have preferred him to slap you? Or, I suppose under the circumstances a good right cross would have done the trick – a little overkill – but still potentially acceptable - again given the circumstances."

Cassandra stared at the lawman, her mouth agape. She was even more stunned when Mort turned towards the woman who had waited on her.

"Beth," he began, "do you want to press charges for destruction of property?"

Miss Peterson turned white then red as her angered flared. She tried and failed to free herself from the hold the Sheriff had on her. "You can't be serious! This is preposterous!" she stammered.

Mort merely shrugged his shoulders. "Facts are facts, Miss Peterson. You purposely damaged property belonging to the store in addition to your assault on Mr. Harper. Beth would be within her rights to press charges too."

"Well, what's it going to be?" Mort asked, looking from Jess to Beth and back for some answers.

Beth was the first to answer. There was neither mirth nor accusation in her voice. "I think if she pays for the damages it will be good enough. I'd prefer not losing time going to court over that small of a cost. I'll let you know how much it is as soon as I figure it up."

Jess was still leaning against the counter, holding his arm, the dark splotch on his sleeve clearly visible. "How long before I have to decide?" Everyone looked at him in surprise. Beth and Mort had been expecting him to just let it go.

"Well, you reported it, so it's on record. I'll need you to come over and put in the written report. Technically, you've got a year to actually file charges. But your case will get weaker and less prosecutable the longer you wait."

Jess nodded. "I need to think about it. I have to go back and see Doc to get stitches. I'll see how bad he thinks this is and what the bill is going to be. I'll most likely let her off with paying my doctor bill and the cost of this here new shirt which she also ruined."

Mort nodded his agreement, releasing Miss Peterson's elbow. "As you can see, there are consequences to the things you do – especially if you do them without proper knowledge of the situation. You heard them. You'll have damages to pay. As soon as I get their bills, I'll get in contact with you. You can go – for now. "

Miss Peterson looked at the three of them in total dismay before turning and huffing out of the store, leaving her things on the counter. Jess couldn't help watching her as she crossed the street, heading for the hotel. She held her head high even though she had just been publicly humiliated, and she walked with an uneven gait, having lost one of her shoes during their altercation. He found himself admiring her spunk, even though he didn't appreciate the aches and pains which were now announcing themselves.

**CHAPTER THREE – BETH WRITES**

I have to shake my head when it comes to Jess Harper. If there is a way for something to go afoul – it will. Only Jess could track down a killer and return home unscathed and then be shot by a woman he rescued. Boy, that's gratitude for you.

It didn't surprise me when he came in to purchase a work shirt. I knew Mrs. Wells was on vacation. I also knew she had made sure everything was clean – including the laundry - before she left. I shuddered to think what the kitchen would look like upon her return. It was the one place Jess is a train wreck. I won't even let him in my kitchen. He makes a mess no matter what he does. Having no clean clothes doesn't surprise me either. He is rough on his clothes. If there is a nail to snag a shirt on, it will find him. A sharp tree branch, bush, barbed wire – yep – it lays in wait for Jess Harper to pass by. It has become a running joke as to how many shirts he can destroy in the course of a week.

Mrs. Wells is a dear of a person. She is very reminiscent of our Daisy, although no one will ever fill her shoes. I have to admit - Mrs. Wells comes close. She was a treasure to find after the fiasco with Mrs. Tremaine. After Jess fired Mrs. Tremaine, she had packed up and left town. It was probably a good thing because the town was really mad at her. They didn't forgive her for helping Jess' sister-in-law try to take Jess' children away from him.

Mrs. Wells had always lived in the country, so being away from town and living on the ranch suited her quite nicely. She adored the children, helping to raise them while Jess worked. She was good for Jess too - a quiet and calming influence upon his household. Like Daisy, Mrs. Wells never told Jess what to do, but somehow, she always managed to guide him in the direction he needed to go. He came to depend upon her, and she has been with him going on eight years now.

It was while Jess was changing into his work shirt that our newest Laramie resident came into the store. She seemed nice enough as she chatted about this and that, piling her selections upon the counter. Honestly, I was only half listening while she told me about her experience the previous day, having encountered some riders who scared her – especially the loner who pulled her buggy horse to a stop. She had been so frightened she had shot the man. I had barely put all the pieces together – her story and Jess being shot – when she screamed, grabbed a candy jar off the counter and heaved it at Jess' head as he exited the back room. This was followed immediately by her leveraging another jar at him followed by beating him with a broomstick. I tried to stop her, knowing Jess would never hurt a woman. But he took matters into his own hands. I had to smirk at his solution of dumping her into the water trough. Regardless of the propriety of such a maneuver, it had the desired effect. She curried no favors with me when I saw she had busted open Jess' gunshot wound, requiring a re-bandaging.

Mort was apparently of the same mind because he introduced Jess as his Deputy. Guess maybe he wanted to impress upon the woman that she couldn't just assume something about a person based upon his looks and she certainly couldn't go around shooting them. She was speechless when Mort asked both Jess and I if we wanted to press charges. Here she thought she'd see Jess arrested for accosting her on the road and for dumping her in the water trough. Instead, she might be the one arrested. I hope it shook her up a bit. Maybe she'd think twice about her actions – especially when Jess said he'd think about whether or not to press charges

**CHAPTER FOUR - Beth writes**

A week or so after Jess recovered, Slim stopped into the General Store to see me.

"So, will you be done in time to go to dinner?" Slim asked me. We were standing, our arms around each other, behind the counter at the General Store when Cassandra Peterson walked in.

When I assured him I would be ready and reminded him that I had made hotel reservations, he said he'd pick me up at six. Giving me a solid kiss on the lips, he tipped his hat to Miss Peterson and continued out of the store. Cassandra stared after him before turning back to address me. Pointing after Slim, confused, she asked. "Did I just see you kiss that man?"

Not sure what business it was of Cassandra's, I answered in the affirmative.

"You mean, your husband doesn't mind?" She asked, still bewildered.

"Why should he mind?" I replied, confused, but suddenly getting a devilish idea. I couldn't pass up the chance to play with her and couldn't resist adding. "It's his best friend, he doesn't mind."

"Why, I should think any husband would mind a whole lot if his best friend took his wife to dinner and kissed her like that!" She answered both embarrassed and confused. "And, and you said you made hotel accommodations! Does your husband condone that too?"

I shrugged my shoulders, scrambling to think of something to say when Jess chose that moment to walk into the store. "Darling!" I called out loudly. Rushing over to him, I threw my arms around him and pretended to kiss him smack on the lips. Taken by surprise, Jess recoiled, putting his hands on my arms and pushing away from me. "Oh, Darling, don't be so shy." I purred."I'm sure Miss Peterson has seen husbands and wives kissing in public before." Beneath my breath I hissed "Just play along."

Smirking, Jess didn't miss a beat as he replied. "Why certainly, uh, honey. I just stopped by to see if we were meeting up for dinner tonight like we planned."

I had to keep myself from laughing. This couldn't have turned out better if I'd planned it. "Why certainly, my love, shall we say seven?" I winked at him, knowing full well the three of us were to eat at six – and Miss Peterson had heard me confirm it with Slim.

"Yes, yes, that's right – seven. You gonna be home tonight or you staying in town again?" Jess asked, wondering if Slim and I were returning to the ranch after the Stockman's meeting. However, he played along, wrapping his arms around my waist.

Behind us, Miss Peterson was turning red in the face, gasping at the scandal she seemed to be witnessing.

Our arms were still around each other when Slim stopped in the doorway, one hand on the door frame, the other holding the doorknob of the open door. "Hey, Beth, I forgot. If you see Jessssss . . ." He stopped, confused by the scene in front of him.

I broke out into laughter, covering my mouth with my hands while Jess turned to his partner, shrugging his shoulders and hands up in a - "What are you looking at me for? I don't know what's going on either." - gesture along with a surprised/confused look upon his face.

"Beth." Slim said drawing out my name. He now stood in the doorway, his arms crossed, and an indulgent look upon his face. I ran over to him and linked my arm through his.

"Honey, I think it is time for introductions. I've put poor Miss Peterson through enough." I led Slim over to the counter, collecting Jess as I swept through the store. Patting Slim's arm with my free hand, and keeping a straight face, I addressed Miss Peterson.

"Miss Peterson, this is my husband, Slim Sherman." I said indicating to Slim. "I'm Beth Sherman. And this fellow here," I said, linking my other arm through Jess' "you have already met. Jess is Slim's partner." I paused to let the information sink in. "And, I apologize, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up."

"You mean." Cassandra choked as she pointed back and forth between the men. "You mean it was just a joke?" She sighed in obvious relief when all three of us nodded. Then she smiled, having eyes only for Jess. I doubt the boys noticed, but I sure did.

"Ladies." Slim said, tipping his hat to Miss Peterson again. "I hope you will excuse us, but Jess and I got work to do." They both kissed me on the cheek and exited. I noticed Miss Peterson turned around to watch the boys, a slight cant to her head, as they crossed the store and exited the building.

She was still staring out the door long after the boys were out of sight. "Hmmm," she murmured before asking in a questioning voice. "The blond one's taken – but the dark-haired one – Harper – is he – you know - taken?"

I paused, not knowing how to answer without revealing Jess' private life. "Well, he's not married anymore, but his heart is with someone. Anything else you want to know, you'll have to ask him. Now, would you still like those items you selected yesterday?"

She looked at me curiously. She looked like she wanted to ask more questions but figured she'd get no answers, so nodded and returned to her shopping.

**CHAPTER FIVE – THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM – BETH WRITES**

Jess was loading supplies into the wagon when Miss Peterson once again visited the General Store.

He momentarily froze in the doorway before relaxing and coming forward, a slight smile on his face. When he froze, I wondered what was going to happen, thoroughly expecting an explosion of Jess Harper sized proportions. He had studiously avoided any encounters with Miss Peterson and, when he couldn't avoid her altogether, usually greeted her with cool indifference. However, this time he smiled – a smile I haven't seen in a long time – and a smile which was hesitantly returned by the town's newest resident. I guess I could say there were sparks there – only not the thunderous explosive kind – the Jess is interested in a new woman kind. I wasn't sure how to react. I had longed for Jess to move on from the stranglehold his grief held over him. Not that he should forget Brianna, merely move her to a place in his heart where he could still love her yet move on with his life. I only hoped Miss Peterson wasn't toying with Jess. His heart couldn't take another heartbreak. Then again, this was just the first blush of interest. It might not lead to anything between them – but it might – it just might.

"Hello. We meet again." He said reaching out his hand to shake hers, although his voice conveyed neither happiness nor anger at seeing her. She smiled graciously as she also extended her hand for the handshake. Neither seemed to notice when they held hands a little longer than was actually necessary. They both missed my mouth twitch up in amusement before I was able to school my features back to normal.

"I'm sorry I shot you. Really, I am. Have you been to the doctor? Are you all right?" She had a soft voice that was easy on the ears even as she shot off questions so fast, he couldn't answer them. Then again, he was smiling and didn't seem to hear anything she said. He now had her one hand clasped between both of his.

"Um, no, I'm fine. I've been over to Doc Hanson's office. Eleanor fixed me up just fine."

I nearly choked over his answer. Jess had ended up with several stitches and his arm in a sling for a week. Jess won't wear a sling if he can get away without it, so I knew it was worse than when I had looked at it. It was a stupid mistake by a newcomer that could have cost Jess his life. He was lucky the wound hadn't gotten infected and caused problems.

"Eleanor?" she queried.

"Dr. Hanson's wife and nurse. She's quite used to doctoring me." He reluctantly let her slide her hand out from between his. When she looked up at him, he noticed she had the darkest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

"Jess, did you know Miss Peterson is our new schoolteacher?" I interjected. "I'm sure Parson Landry will want to introduce her to everyone at Sunday Services. There's a church social this weekend – it'll be a good opportunity to meet everyone." I hid a smile, knowing Jess hadn't heard a word I'd said. Maybe, just maybe, Jess was coming out of his self-imposed mourning over Brianna.

"By the way," began Cassandra, her eyes never leaving Jess. "I'm looking for a place to rent while I'm here. The school board gives me a building allowance. It's quite sufficient to allow me to stay at the hotel, but I'd really like a house – you know – some place I can call my own – and definitely bigger than even a suite at the hotel. You wouldn't know of anything to rent, would you?"

I looked at Jess, gauging his reaction. "Jess, the rental house is empty isn't it?" A few moments lapsed with no response. "Jess?" I said a little louder.

"Hmmm?" he answered, suddenly realizing he'd been asked a question. Breaking his gaze from Cassandra, he looked at me. "Ah, oh, no, the house isn't rented right now." Then to Miss Peterson he said. "I've got a little bit of time before I need to get back to the ranch, I'd be pleased to show you around."

I watched as they left the store together, Cassandra's arm in Jess' as he began his guided tour of the town and Brianna's – now Katie's - rental house.

**CHAPTER SIX – JESS SHOWS CASSANDRA THE HOUSE.**

Jess unlocked the door and allowed Miss Peterson to enter ahead of him. He stood in the hallway, reluctant to go further. He hadn't set foot in the house since moving Brianna out to the ranch. It still held bad memories for him. His sick room lay down the hall to the right. This was the hall he had painfully traversed, dragging damaged legs back to usefulness. He didn't have to look at the fireplace to know exactly where he'd been, on his knees, hands bound, watching as Granger tossed Katie aside like a dishrag, before having his head caved in by the soul-less man. He still got headaches from that beating - something he'd always carry from the night of Katie's kidnapping. He shook himself back into the present. Miss Peterson was extolling the virtues of the house.

"I love the house. I love the furniture and the layout and even the color. Someone had marvelous taste."

Jess swallowed the lump in his throat as he answered. "Yes, ma'am, my wife had excellent taste. Her daughter seems to have inherited that skill. She's the one who decorated the house after the last tenants. I never could figure the need for all those doo-dads you women feel necessary in a house, but Bree and her daughter both had a knack for most everything they put their hands to."

"Bree?" Cassandra immediately pounced on the name. "Not Brianna McConnell? She wrote me – oh- years ago – that she was getting married and instead of selling the place was renting it out." Her face lit up when Jess nodded in the affirmative. She stopped and sighed before going on, touching the overstuffed couch lovingly. "This is Brianna's house? I haven't heard from her in so long." She added wistfully as she continued to roam the rooms. "We lost touch – you know how it is. You get busy and time flies by. I wrote – often – but after a while, the letters came back. That's why I took the teaching position – even though I didn't know if she was still here. I was hoping she was still here, and we could reconnect. She was so happy here in Laramie. She was so happy to find love again." She suddenly realized that Jess hadn't responded and there had been a distinct drop in the formerly friendly atmosphere. His body language was suddenly very tense. "Did I say something wrong, Mr. Harper? Nothing's happened to her has it?"

It took a moment before Jess could respond. "I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Miss Peterson, but I'm afraid Brianna passed away almost eight years ago." It was all he could bear to say. She was immediately sorry, seeing her questions had obviously caused this man some pain. She walked over to him then, gently resting a hand on his arm.

"You're him, aren't you? You're her husband – _that _Jess Harper? She wrote me about you. She loved you more than life itself." Her voice was soft with understanding. Jess took a deep breath.

"Yes. I married Brianna nine years ago. We were only married a little over a year before she died."

"Would you . . ." She was hesitant to ask. "Would you mind telling me how she died?"

Jess wiped a hand over moist eyes. He took another deep breath. "She died giving birth to our son, Marcus."

"Oh, no. I'm so sorry." He could feel genuine sympathy in her voice. "But the boy, Marcus, he lived?"

Jess nodded.

"I'm glad." She answered. Jess looked at her in shock. "Bree would have wanted it that way. She loved children and she would have chosen to give up her own life rather than lose a baby – especially _your_ baby." She noted his questioning look so continued on. "Bree wrote to me about how excited she was to be a mother again. She couldn't wait for the baby to be born. She hoped it was a boy this time. She wanted to give you a son – and she did. Did she know you'd had a son before . . . before she passed away?"

"Yes, but she never got to hold him. She . . . she passed too quickly."

Cassandra nodded sadly. Then, cheering up she asked. "Katie – what about Katie? Oh, tell me Katie is all right. She was a baby the last time I saw her. Tom and Brianna visited me in St. Louis before coming further west."

Jess' protective nature rose up. He chose his words carefully. He wasn't about to reveal any more personal information about his family. "Yes, Katie stayed here in Laramie with me. I adopted her when Bree and I married. I've raised her as my own child."

Sensing she was treading on sensitive feelings, she dropped her questioning regarding her friend's family. "Mr. Harper, I'd like to rent the house if that is agreeable with you."

Jess nodded. "I'll get the paperwork started. You can move in as soon as you'd like." He handed her one set of keys. "Let me know if you need anything."

They closed and locked the doors, agreeing to meet at a convenient time and place to sign the rental papers.

**CHAPTER SEVEN – THE DANCE – BETH WRITES**

Once Parson Landry introduced Miss Peterson during church services, the town welcomed her into their midst. During the church social, many of the parents wanted to know about her teaching methods, her experience, what she would be teaching their children, etc. They kept her busy for the rest of the afternoon. Watching from afar, I could tell she was happy with the town's attitude. Cassandra kept scanning the crowd as if looking for someone in particular. I'm pretty sure she was looking for Jess. He certainly seemed interested in her. However, he had chosen not to attend the social that day.

I've known Jess long enough to know when something is different about him. First of all, he came into the store during the middle of the week. The boys didn't usually get supplies except on Saturdays. He was in a lighter mood than he'd been in for quite a while. You could have floored me when he asked who might be willing to watch Marcus so he could go to the dance Saturday. Jess hadn't attended a social or dance since Brianna's death. Gosh – that meant I'd have to get a sitter for Nate too. We'd gotten so used to Jess watching both boys while Slim and I attended the dances, I'd have to figure out who was available. I promised to make the arrangements and let him know. He smiled a brilliant smile, his eyes dancing, before leaving. There was a spring in his step as he exited. I looked after him, wondering just what – or perhaps who – had brought about the change in my husband's partner.

The night of the dance Slim and Jess were dressed in their Sunday best. They both wore brocade vests and tailored jackets. They were both drool-able – that's for sure. It was so nice to see Jess spiffed up. It had been a long time – other than church – to see him dressed up. He was once again his animated self, looking forward to the outing.

Nate and Marc were excited to be going to Mrs. Taylor's house. She had watched them on and off over the years. They knew they could look forward to being spoiled with candies and cookies. She might even have gotten in some chocolate. She doted on the children and was happy to watch over them for the night. She knew they'd be little monkeys in behavior, but it never seemed to bother her. She had lots of experience with little boys and for some reason they never really gave her any trouble. There were days I wish I knew her secret – because both Nate and Marc could be worse pranksters than Jess ever thought of being. What one child didn't think up, the other one did. Together, they were quite a handful. I could just imagine what their teenage years were going to be like.

After arriving at the hall, Jess and Slim excused themselves to go hang up their gun belts in the entryway. Guns were not allowed in the dance area. I saw Slim place a hand on Jess' shoulder and say something. Jess was looking at the floor before he nodded, took a deep breath, and turned to enter the dance with us. At first, I couldn't understand his sudden trepidation at joining the crowded dance floor. Then I remembered all the memories – good and bad – associated with this building.

It was while Jess was courting Doreen the first incident had happened. It was the night of Katie's kidnapping and Jess' severe beating by the kidnapper. He'd left the doctor's office against Dr. Hanson's orders, riding to save Katie. He'd rescued her, nearly costing him his own life. It had taken him a long time to recover – especially with the relapse where we thought he might be blind permanently.

The other two memories were much happier. It was at one of these dances when Jess and Brianna had found each other. The love of the former gunslinger and the widowed mother had turned into the love of a lifetime for them both. When they had married, the town had thrown them a wedding reception in this very same hall. Yes, Jess had many memories connected to this hall and the dances. I hope he'll be okay. Apparently, Slim is watching his back, encouraging him, as he always does. I don't think anyone else truly understands the brother bond between these two men. It means so much that Jess allowed me in – to become part of his family. Without Jess' acceptance, I could never have been with Slim. Like Slim, I'd do anything to protect Jess from harm or heartache.

Apparently, word had gotten around town that Jess would be attending the dance. There was a gaggle of girls – I guess I should call them ladies due to their age - standing around the edges of the hall. There was a twittering that circled the floor when Jess made his entrance. He hadn't intended to make an entrance. In fact, he had tried to slip in unnoticed. Ha – like a handsome, eligible bachelor who stood nearly six feet tall, dressed in an impeccably fitted suit, could go anywhere unnoticed. Jess hadn't "aged" in those last eight years, merely "matured" – his face filling in a little, his shoulders broader but still carrying a chiseled physique. I'm not ashamed to say that if I weren't married, I'd sure consider him a handsome and desirable male specimen. Now, don't go thinking I have scandalous thoughts about my husband's partner, because I don't. I've got everything I could ever want wrapped up in the tall blond man I love, who loves me, and in whose arms I sleep every night – and I'm not describing my husband's gorgeous body to anyone. He's mine and I'm keeping him.

It didn't take long for Jess' old charm to reassert itself. He was smiling and joking with the older widows just like he used to, taking them for a turn out on the floor, showering them with compliments. No wonder he never had to look far for baby sitters – they all adored him. He was the son they never had or who had lost and for those few precious moments when he danced with them, they re-lived wonderful memories of their lost ones or their long-ago youth when they were themselves, desirable.

It was interesting watching Jess – and that smile – oh that smile was back! Slim was even enjoying watching his buddy get back in circulation. It was pretty obvious to us that Jess was looking for one particular lady because his smile grew broader when Cassandra Peterson finally made an appearance. It wasn't long before he was squiring her around the floor. I don't think he stopped smiling the rest of the night. He was gracious in bowing out when someone cut in, but he'd cut back in when an acceptable amount of time had gone by. A few of the 'young studs' thought to challenge him over the hand of Cassandra. However, wiser heads advised them as to the folly of taking on the rancher. He could still clean their clock if a fight ensued.

All too soon, the last dance had finished playing. We all reluctantly said our good-byes before filing out the doors. Slim and I waited in the buggy while Jess walked Miss Peterson to the hotel. It was a beautiful night for the buggy drive home. We'd go back to town in the morning to get the boys. Mrs. Taylor had told us to take our time in coming back to get them. Jess rode alongside the buggy. He didn't say much all of the way home, lost in his own thoughts, but it was obvious he was in a really good mood.

**CHAPTER EIGHT – THE COUNTY FAIR**

It was only two weeks before school would begin. That meant the traveling carnival would be coming to town. Combined with our County Fair, it would be a grand week-long celebration of entertainment and competitions, ending in a Charity Dance on Saturday night.

Slim and Jess, would of course, be competing in the marksmanship competition. They both had long since quit competing in the rough stock events at the rodeo. They figured they did enough of that during the course of their work and didn't need to prove themselves to anyone.

Between the two of them, they had won the horse race almost every year– often enough the other competitors were demanding Slim and Jess be penalized with some sort of handicap, or be kept out of the competition entirely. As it turned out, neither of them had a mount to ride in the competition. Jess declined to enter Thunder. He'd spent a long time training the gelding and was pleased with the horse. With riding posse so often recently, he hadn't had time to condition the horse properly for a race. He'd rather lose out than harm the horse he'd spent so much time training. He'd still compete in the calf roping – but that was it for animal activities.

Slim was still riding Alamo. Although not old in horse terms, he was still considerably older than any of the other horses which would be entered in the race. He knew Alamo wasn't up to that kind of challenge and chose to forego the race in favor of keeping his horse sound. Besides, he knew Jess' son-in-law Luke would be riding Sundowner in the horse race. Jess had trained that horse too, before giving the mare to Katie and Luke as a wedding present. Sundowner carried some of the best breeding bloodlines Jess had ever developed and could run like the wind.

Slim smiled, thinking of the money he might win if he bet on Luke and Sundowner. He had his eye on a new saddle for Nate and there was a pretty green dress in the dressmaker's window that would look gorgeous on Beth. If he played it right, he'd win enough for those items plus enough to whisk his wife off for a quick trip to Denver, something which always pleased her.

Jess' son Marc would be competing in the mutton busting at the rodeo. Slim's son Nate was old enough to ride in the rodeo's junior division. Beth was not thrilled to have her son riding either the bucking horses or bulls (even though they were much smaller than the adults rode), but knew it was a westerner's rite of passage. She'd grown up on a ranch and riding cattle drives. She knew, loved, and understood the lifestyle. She was just nervous about it when it came to her and Slim's son actually doing it.

However, not to be outdone by the men in her family, Beth was entering the barrel racing event. Somehow, she had found time to work one of the ranch horses and had selected one she was sure would put her in the money. Of course, it was one that Jess had started training – one from his breeding bloodlines. If she won, it would be great publicity for the ranch and Jess' training methods. She couldn't claim training of her horse, only expounding upon Jess' already rock-solid methods. She intended to win that prize money. She had her eye on a pretty green dress in the dressmaker's window – one that would make her husband's eyes light up – and would maybe convince him to take her to Denver for a quick get-away from the ranch.

Since both Beth and Mrs. Wells had volunteered to help in the homemaker's competition booth, it left Slim and Jess to shepherd Nate and Marc around the carnival. The traveling carnival had banned both Slim and Jess from playing any of their games of chance, which required throwing or shooting – having learned they never missed. Therefore, Slim and Jess were relegated to just walking around the carnival and watching the goings on. Neither seemed to mind as they now had children to watch over and enjoyed seeing the carnival through their children's eyes.

It was especially poignant for Jess. Being the son of a dirt-poor share cropper, he'd never attended a fair or carnival as a child. It had been a total wonderment to him the first time he attended one after coming to Laramie. Now, watching Marc, he had a sense of what it would have been like to attend as a child. It pleased him greatly that he was able to give his son the experiences that he, himself, had never had.

Jess watched with interest as both Nate and Marc lined up at the pie eating contest table. He'd never been in a pie eating contest. He was torn between cheering his son and nephew on and grimacing over the boys delving face first into the blueberry pies. (Although, he certainly would not have minded having a pie to eat for himself). He had to laugh at his son's happy face when he looked up upon completing his pie. Marc was blueberry stained from forehead to chin and ear-to-ear. Only his eyes stood out on his face. Even his smile was blueberry stained. Jess was thankful for the napkin tucked into his son's shirt – at least Mrs. Wells wouldn't chastise them for ruining his shirt. It took some doing, but Slim and Jess were able to get their sons cleaned up enough to be presentable in public again. Nate and Marc were quite pleased with themselves, wearing their participation ribbons on their chests with pride.

From the pie eating contest, the youngsters moved on to the Calf Scramble. Calves with ribbons tied to their tails were turned loose in the arena. The goal was for the child – either boy or girl – to pull the ribbon off the calf's tail and beat the other contestants to the finish line. A fun melee ensued as the calves ran helter-skelter around the arena, just out of reach of the children's hands. Eventually some of the children were fast enough to grasp ribbons and pull them off the calves. Nate was among the first to cross the finish line – his long legs making short work of the arena distance. When the young girl handing out the prizes unexpectedly kissed him on the cheek, Nate wished the ground would swallow him up. Golly-gee – a girl had kissed him in public – how embarrassing. He waited only long enough to clear the arena before scrubbing his hand against his cheek hoping to erase the permanent mark he was sure was visible there. He turned red when he spotted his father watching him, tongue in cheek and grinning. Slim knew it wouldn't be long before his son would be looking forward to receiving those kisses from a girl.

There was one last children's competition for the day – the Greased Pig contest. Standing in the center of the enclosed arena, the boys waited for the pig to be released amongst them. The pig had been coated with lard – hence the "grease" in the greased pig contest. The goal was to catch and hold onto the pig within the time limit. Now, anyone who has ever tried to catch and/or hold onto a pig knows there isn't much to hang onto – nearly impossible if it is covered in grease. And even a small pig running between your legs trying to escape is like being hit by a boulder. Although all of the boys in the arena did their best to capture the pig, it effectively evaded all of their attempts. Before the time limit was up, all of the contestants were covered in grease and dirt. Once again, the boys grinned ear to ear when the contest was over.

Slim and Jess, now faced with two very dirty and greasy children, wondered just exactly what they should do, how were they going to explain the clothing casualties to Beth and Mrs. Wells. Drifting back to their buckboard, Jess reached into the picnic basket in search of something to eat, only to break out laughing. Slim turned to see Jess holding up clean clothing for both Nate and Marc. Someone obviously knew Jess' insatiable appetite would lead him to raid the picnic basket and thus find the boy's clothes – also figuring neither man would look in any logical place for replacement clothes – even if they had been told the location. Neither knew whether Beth or Mrs. Wells had packed the clothing, but they were sure glad of it. With both boys cleaned up and wearing clean clothing, the four of them decided to wander over to the competition tents.

They weren't exactly interested in the quilting and dress making or needlework displays. But they did check out the canned and baked goods tables. Slim and Jess had their hands full keeping the boys' fingers away from the pies, cakes, and cookies set temptingly close to the table edges. They knew the boys were getting hungry so decided to remove them from temptation.

Slim idly wondered how much trouble he'd get into for spoiling the boys' supper by buying them some taffy. They had stopped at the booth to watch the taffy being hand-pulled until it was shiny and then cut into pieces for sale. The smiles as the boys chewed their treat more than made up for any scolding the adults might receive. While Slim and the boys had been engrossed watching the taffy making, Jess had slipped over to the fudge vendor and purchased a small bag for them to share. He figured the fair only came along once a year and it was okay to indulge a little. He also knew that Beth would have his hide if either boy came down with a stomachache due to too many treats.

Slim and Jess bought the boys sandwiches from one of the booths before heading over to the judging arena. Slim wanted to watch the cattle judging competition. Next year Nate would be old enough to enter the Junior competition and he was hoping to enter some of his stock in the Senior division. He wanted to see what he and Nate would be up against. Jess watched for a while before he got restless and excused himself from the group. With Slim's approval, Marc opted to stay with his cousin and uncle. Jess walked around aimlessly, just enjoying the carnival atmosphere.

Beth was in the competition tent eyeing the various baked and canned goods when she bumped into Cassandra Peterson. Miss Peterson had visited Beth's store several times and the two had become friendly, although Beth would not have said they were friends.

"Did you enter anything?" Cassandra asked.

Beth laughed. "Ha, oh no. I'm not even in the same class as these homemakers. Miss Daisy taught me well, but I'm nowhere near good enough to compete." She eyed the colorful glass jars of pickles and other vegetables, wishing she felt her cooking and canning reached that level of greatness.

"Miss Daisy?" Cassandra asked. "I don't think I've met her since I've been here."

Beth paused a moment before answering. "No, you wouldn't have. Mrs. Cooper, whom we called Miss Daisy, used to be Slim and Jess' housekeeper. Unfortunately, she passed away quite a few years ago. We all miss her terribly. She was one of a kind." She answered wistfully.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up sad memories." She apologized as they continued to walk along the tables, checking out the entries.

Beth smiled and patted Cassandra's arm. "Don't worry, you didn't. All of our memories of Daisy make us smile. Miss Daisy used to win the pickle-canning contest every year. No one ever did figure out just what she did that was different. She gave me her recipe, but my pickles still don't compare to hers. She just had a special touch that no one can duplicate."

"You said she taught you to cook?" Cassandra asked, genuinely interested.

Beth let out a soft laugh. She told Cassandra the shortened version of how she met and eventually married Slim Sherman – all due to Miss Daisy's collusion over the church picnic basket followed by cooking lessons at the ranch. She purposely left out all reference to Jess, reluctant to reveal anything personal about him.

"You said your husband and Mr. Harper were partners, yet you sometimes refer to him as your brother-in-law; I'm confused."

"Slim and Jess were partners before I ever met them. They are as close as brothers. It is just easier to refer to him as my brother-in-law because we are family. Blood kin or not, we're family."

Cassandra nodded as if she understood, yet, remained completely confused about the family dynamics.

"What about Mr. Harper, what's he like?" Cassandra asked innocently. However, Beth was not fooled by her innocence – the woman was interested in Jess. But she wasn't sure if it was personal or idle curiosity.

"Like I said before, Jess is Slim's partner. He's got a great reputation for his breeding program and his training methods. His horses are almost always sold before he's done training them. He has a standing contract with the Army for remounts."

"But what about him, the man himself. You said he wasn't married." Pushed Cassandra.

Beth tried to be kind, but her voice held a slightly cold edge to it. "I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about Jess. It's not my story to tell. He'll tell you what he wants you to know when he wants you to know it. Beyond that, Jess' personal life is off limits as to discussion. Now, if you will excuse me, I need to get back to my station in the baked goods competition booth." Without waiting for an answer, Beth turned and walked away.

Cassandra continued to walk around among the other carnival goers. She was enjoying some popcorn when she spotted a familiar dark-haired man across the fairway. Still feeling friendly from the dance, she was about to wave to get his attention, hoping he might walk with her a while. But his attention was focused on something she couldn't see. As she watched him, she saw his face light up, a delighted smile gracing his normally solemn features. She nearly choked when she saw a slender auburn-haired woman throw her arms around Mr. Harper's neck, calling him by his first name as he picked her up and whirled her around in a circle. There was obvious joy in their meeting as they hugged each other, and the woman showered him with kisses. Grinning broadly and talking animatedly, they walked away, arms wrapped around each other's waists, holding each other close.

Cassandra momentarily tried to puzzle out the difference in Jess and the mystery woman's ages. She was too old to be his daughter. She must be the person Mrs. Sherman had referred to as 'his heart is with someone'. Or – oh no – she didn't want to think that Mr. Harper was living in sin with someone so young. Harper was a widower – she knew that. But if he were living with someone, that would explain the age difference. Brianna had written about how honorable her husband was. Obviously, things had changed since her death. Her opinion of Jess Harper dropped a few points.

However, she still remained curious about the man. There was something about him she couldn't quite put her finger on – and the town wasn't helping one bit. Normally women like to gossip about men – especially someone as handsome as Jess Harper. She tried to quit kidding herself. Women liked to gossip about everything – especially a good-looking man. Nevertheless, whenever she brought up Jess Harper's name, the conversation went cold, or the subject quickly changed – just as it had done with Beth Sherman. Even the old harpies at church went closed mouthed at the mention of his name. Other than learning he was partner in the Sherman-Harper Ranch and was a renowned horse trainer who often worked for the sheriff, there was no more information forthcoming regarding Jess Harper.

Cassandra began to suspect there was something about the man – something in his past that was being hidden. Was he really an outlaw hiding out in Laramie? Even though the sheriff had said he wasn't a gunman, he still wore his gun slung low and tied down. She'd heard rumors about how fast he could draw, was a deadly accurate shot and that he had an explosive temper. Was Harper his real name? Had he changed his name to Harper and was hiding out right under the Sheriff's nose? And – why was the town protecting him? What did they know that she didn't? Was everything Brianna had written been a lie? Or had she been lied to? Cassandra thoroughly intended to figure out the mystery surrounding her late friend's husband - Mr. Jess Harper.

**CHAPTER NINE – RODEO**

The morning of the rodeo dawned clear and bright. Beth seated herself in the grandstands where she was quickly joined by Katie. They were going over the program when someone asked. "May I sit here?" Beth turned to see Cassandra Peterson beside her. Not sure of how she felt about the woman – especially unsure she wanted to spend the day sitting with her, Beth decided to be gracious and nodded her approval. As Cassandra took her seat, Beth introduced Cassandra to Katie, suddenly deciding to introduce her as Katherine Stone and not mentioning she was Jess' step-daughter. Jess had told her that Miss Peterson was a former friend of Brianna's. He didn't know what she wanted and wasn't willing to introduce his family to her until he trusted her. When Katie started to suggest Cassandra call her Katie, Beth stepped on her toe. Katie caught the look in her aunt's eyes and didn't correct her.

Cassandra froze for a moment. This was the young auburn-haired woman she had seen at the carnival with Mr. Harper. Somehow, she was not surprised when the woman's last name wasn't Harper but Stone – Katherine Stone. She wondered how Mrs. Sherman could condone the illicit goings on of Mr. Harper and Mrs. Stone – Mrs. – no less. The woman was married – she wore a wedding ring. And the two women seemed to be quite chummy. Cassandra just didn't know what to think of the whole situation. Beth wondered at the odd look Cassandra gave Katie. It was all forgotten as the first event was called.

Slim, Jess and Luke were behind the chutes helping out and getting prepared to compete themselves. Later in the day they would help with the children's competition. She knew she wouldn't see any of them until lunch break. Her event was the first one after lunch. After competing and taking care of her horse, she'd return to the grandstands to be just another spectator. Although she loved her guys and they loved her, behind the chutes was "guy time" – a time for fathers and sons to bond over competition – another rite of passage in the west.

It was a sign the children were growing up when they were old enough to remain behind the chutes with the men and not have to go stay with the women who waited in the grand stands. She worried Jess' Marc was a little young for the more mature language and discussions which went on behind the chutes. However, Marc and Nate were inseparable. Although three years apart in age, they were as close as Slim and Jess had ever been. They were miniature carbon copies of their respective fathers. She placed her faith in both Slim and Jess monitoring what was appropriate for their children. Besides, the other parents also had a hand in keeping the language and talk appropriate for the young ones in their midst. It was a family event, after all, and they were usually pretty good about keeping it that way.

Neither Slim nor Jess were in the first event – bull dogging. Since his encounter with the Grangers, Jess' left leg no longer supported that type of stress being placed on it. Slim was just too tall and gangly, his legs were too long, putting him in danger of breaking a bone upon impact when he swung to the ground. He'd sworn off that event early in life.

Jess was one of the first riders up for the calf roping. Thunder took him out of the box, lining up to give Jess the best rope throw ever – only to get his left foot get hung up in the stirrup as he dismounted. He did an interesting version of a somersault before doing a face plant in the arena dust. Regaining his feet, he signaled for his calf to be released. Then, good-naturedly accepting the haranguing and catcalls from the other cowboys, doffed his hat and bowed to the grandstand. This brought cheers from the on-lookers who knew it would be a long time before the popular cowboy lived this one down. He coiled his rope, patted Thunder, and vaulted into the saddle before riding out of the arena. The audience didn't see Slim and Luke help him from his horse, laying him on the ground while Dr. Hanson, serving as rodeo doctor, examined his leg. Jess knew he'd be spending the rest of the day hobbling around on crutches or using a cane.

Slim was kneeling beside Jess when he heard his number called. He'd be up soon but didn't want to leave Jess' side until Dr. Hanson said he was okay. Jess pushed Slim away.

"Aw, Slim, I'm all right. You go on. Get outta here. The more events you win the more money you got to take Beth to Denver. "

Slim stared at Jess, wondering just how his partner knew of his plans. As in answer to his unspoken question, Jess said "I seen you eyeing that dress in the dressmaker's window. I might not know much about women, but even I know that dress is too fancy for anything around here." He gave Slim another push. "And I'll tell ya something else – Beth has her eye on that very same dress. Now – you go win enough money to buy that fancy gown for your wife and take her to Denver." Grinning broadly, Slim stood and turned to walk away, only to be called back by his partner. "Hey, Slim," Jess called out. "I'm still winning the shooting match – so don't go counting on that money." Slim laughed as he went to his horse to get ready for his competition.

Slim shook out his loop, tucking it up under his arm and backed Alamo into the roper's box. Nodding for his calf to be released, he cued Alamo to follow. Alamo practically put his nose to the tail of the calf, waiting for his master to sit back, cueing him to stop and hold the rope tight. It didn't happen. Just as Slim threw his loop, the calf made an abrupt left turn, leaving Slim's rope circling air. Cussing under his breath, Slim coiled his rope and headed for the out gate. Dang, he'd wanted that prize money. It didn't help a thing when Jess called out to him. "Hey – I didn't know they hired you to perform magic. That calf sure enough disappeared all right." Slim was sorely tempted to kick the keg Jess was sitting on out from under him but thought better of it.

With the mutton busting event up next, Jess hobbled over to help his son. Beth and Katie shouted encouragement from the grand stands, leaving Miss Peterson speculating, once again, upon the strange relationship between the two women – and who was the child they were cheering for? Her attention turned back to the arena as another chute gate opened to release the sheep and its rider. It only took one look at the dark-haired boy for her to decide this must be Jess Harper's son. Miss Peterson continued to wonder over the relationship between Mrs. Stone and Mr. Harper.

Like most of the other children, Marc barely made it out of the chute before sliding off his sheep. And, like most of the other children, he lay where he had fallen, laughing like crazy. All had great fun as they helped pick the children up off the ground and dusted them off. The children laughed with glee at how fun it was to do something so silly. It was always a good segue to the lunch break.

Beth and Katie took their leave from Miss Peterson and joined their families at their designated meeting place. They watched as their "boys" dug into the packed lunch the girls had prepared. Beth ate little, her stomach nervous over the upcoming competition. All too soon, the call went through the crowd announcing the resumption of the rodeo events. Beth left Jess, Marc and Nate to help Katie clear things away while she went to saddle her horse and get her warmed up.

Slim followed Beth, intending to help her get ready. However, he seemed to be in her way more than he was helping. Frustrated, Beth turned to her husband. Gently resting her hands on his shoulders, she smiled up at him saying. "Darling, I love you, but please go away." Slim laughed and smiled broadly. He understood performance jitters. His hands had automatically gone to her waist and he now hugged her before kissing her forehead and walking away, telling her to "go get 'em." However, he didn't go far, choosing to lean against the fencing and watch her ride.

Beth rode Fancy around, warming up and loosening her muscles in preparation for the upcoming speed event. Jess had called the mare Fancy because of her coloring. While she was quarter horse breeding, her color was called Palomino - her body the color of a copper penny, with a white mane and tail. Her coat glowed in the summer sun and Beth noticed more than a few people eyeing the mare. It made her smile because she knew the more people who noticed Fancy, the better advertising it was for both the ranch's breeding program and Jess' training. Now, if she could just put in a stellar performance in the speed event, it would be icing on the cake. As she was riding around, Beth suddenly got an idea.

By mutual agreement, Jess, Slim, Luke, and herself had purposely chosen to not share their horses and cross-enter them in different events. Their feeling was that no one wanted to be responsible if something went wrong during their ride and it caused the other person's inability to compete. However, once Beth competed, it left Fancy free if Jess should want to run her in the race the next day. She'd wait until after she competed to broach the subject with Slim and Jess. It would be a feather in Jess' "cap" if Fancy won the race. Although, it did mean racing her against Sundowner. She wasn't sure how Jess and Luke would feel about that.

Fancy's front feet bounced up and down on the ground in anticipation of Beth loosening the reins to send her down the entryway and into the arena. They flew around the first and second barrels, heading for the third barrel of the cloverleaf pattern. Rounding the third and final turn, Beth's knee struck the barrel, threatening to overturn it. She didn't look back as she urged the mare into greater speed down the return line and back out the arena gate. Only then did she look back to see the barrel miraculously still standing. If it had fallen, it would have meant a five-second time penalty – enough to put her out of the money. Fancy pranced all the way back to their buckboard. Slim was waiting, pride showing in his smile, when Beth dismounted and jumped into his arms. She was incredibly happy with her run.

Before she even unsaddled Fancy, people were surrounding her – some asking about buying the mare and others asking about her breeding and any foals that were available for sale. Beth directed them all to Jess, explaining that he was the owner and she had just been the rider.

Slim and Beth were sitting on the end of the buckboard, arms around each other, watching Fancy graze at the end of her lead rope, when Jess approached. Three teenage girls followed him. They had long ago gotten used to Jess being a female magnet, so really didn't think anything of it until Jess called Beth's name. With a bit of flourish, Jess gestured from the ladies towards Beth. "Ladies," he said. "May I introduce my sister-in-law Beth Sherman. Beth is who trained Fancy to run the barrels. Beth." He said addressing her now. "These ladies would like to learn more about barrel racing and wondered if you'd consider teaching them and maybe training their barrel horses too."

Slim and Beth had slid off the wagon. Jess quietly took Fancy's rope and led her away, a huge grin on his face. Beth stood looking at the girls in total shock. She glanced quickly at Slim who grinned broadly and gave her a wink before turning to follow Jess. She knew that meant the decision was hers to make. Slim would support her no matter what she decided. Overwhelmed, she stayed to talk with the enthusiastic girls, hashing out details but waiting for the idea to settle in before she promised anything. She'd borrowed Fancy and done barrels just for the fun of it. They only had two or three rodeos a year in Laramie, with the Carnival week being the biggest event, so she'd never considered it anything more than an excuse to get out and ride a fast horse. She didn't like the open race being held the next day. While she knew she could hold her own against any rider, the men were far too enthusiastic and rough for her liking; sometimes crossing over into outright dangerous in their attempt to prove they had the fastest horse. No, she'd stay in the arena where it was her and her horse against the stopwatch. There was a roar from the arena as Beth's name was called as the winner. Promising to consider the girls' request, Beth excused herself from the young ladies to rejoin her family.

Nate's events were coming up soon. Beth and Katie wished him luck and made their way back to the grand stands. Beth wasn't sure how she felt about it when Miss Peterson once again joined them. At least the woman didn't pester her with any more questions about Jess. Owning the General Store had certain advantages – including being privy to most of the gossip in town. It hadn't taken long for word to reach her about Miss Peterson's inquiries. She was pleased to know how the town still protected Jess and his children from outsiders.

Jess and Brianna's love story was one of a kind. They had such a short time together, but no one doubted their love for each other. Her death giving birth to Marc nearly sent the former gunman over the edge. But it was his love for his step-daughter and newborn son which brought him back from the brink of self-destruction. He had loved and lived for his children. Then his sister-in-law tried to have his parental rights terminated, citing him as a dangerous and incompetent father. For the first time since arriving in Laramie, the town had rallied in his support and he was vindicated. Ever since, the townspeople as a whole had closed ranks, claiming him as their own and vowing that no one would ever again interfere with the single father raising his children. Thus, was the reason Miss Peterson could find nothing out about Mr. Jess Harper.

NATE RIDES

It wasn't long before Nate's events were called. Beth chewed her fingernails, watching her son settle into the bucking chute. All of a sudden, it didn't matter that the bull he was riding was half the size the adults rode. She was nervous. She could see Slim and Jess alongside the chute, offering encouragement and helping him get ready. The gate swung open and the bull leaped into action. It twisted and turned while leaping in the air. Nate almost stayed on the required time, losing his balance and biting the dust only a breath before the horn sounded. Ugh! If he'd only been able to stay on one or two more seconds! The bucking bronc (actually a very large pony) tossed Nate faster than the bull had. He only made it a couple of jumps out of the chute before being dumped in the dirt. Unperturbed by his being thrown, he waved to the crowd as he ran over and climbed the arena fence. Beth got the distinct feeling her son was going to grow up to be a charmer – just like his daddy and uncle.

It was hard to say who was more tired at the end of the day – the men or the boys. Both Nate and Marc fell asleep in the buckboard on the way home and were carried to bed by their respective parents.

Jess took a sip of coffee, reflecting upon the day's events. He stood in the doorway of Marc's bedroom watching his son sleep. It took a while for him to realize how contented he was. The days alone out in the Big Open seemed a lifetime ago. Even though Katie and Luke lived just a few miles away, he missed Katie quite a bit. It had made him happy when she spent the better part of the day at the carnival with him and had come to the rodeo. He watched Marc's steady breathing, realizing how much his son had grown. It seemed only yesterday that he'd been a baby Jess had held in his arms. He remembered the nights he'd sat up with the crying child or when Marc had been ill. It had taken his breath away worrying whether his son would be all right.

Jess walked over to the window where he could see the cemetery. Brianna's marker stood out under the moonlight. Jess raised his cup in salute. "We did good Bree. Marc's a fine young boy. He'll be a good man. You can trust me to raise him right." He set his cup in the sink and retired to his own bedroom.

THE RACE

After hearing Beth's idea for him to ride Fancy in the race, Jess had gone to bed looking forward to the competition. However, when he woke up that morning, he knew it was never going to happen. The leg he had injured during the calf roping was now considerably swollen. It was stiff and he could barely put any weight on it. There was no way he could ride – let alone ride in the hazardous race where he'd need every ounce of horsemanship he possessed to stay aboard his horse. He got dressed and walked around the house, leaning heavily upon his cane. He was in a foul mood. He thought his days of depending upon that dawg gone piece of wood were behind him. He chastised himself for being so stupid as to catch his foot in his stirrup. His throw had been true, but his timing had been off and he was paying for it now.

When Jess didn't come down to Slim's house in time to leave, Slim went to check on him. Jess tried begging off going, knowing he'd just be a nuisance to everyone with his slow walk. Dr. Hanson had told him to keep the leg elevated – which he hadn't done – and now he'd have to be good and do as the doctor had instructed. Jess tried to convince Slim he should ride Fancy in the race. Slim immediately declined. He'd never ridden Fancy and the race was not a good place for him and the horse to get acquainted. However, Jess changed his mind about going when Slim reminded him that today was also the day of the shooting competition. That motivated Jess enough to get ready, but accepting he'd have to ride in the buggy since he couldn't sit a saddle in this condition.

Arriving at the fairgrounds, Jess settled himself into a handy viewing spot and found a way to prop up his injured leg. He grinned happily when he spotted Miss Peterson among the crowd. He stood up to wave her over, inviting her to sit with him. He hadn't seen her since the dance and was looking forward to seeing her again. His smile faded when she looked at him and purposely turned away, a disapproving look upon her face. Sitting back down, he tried to think of something he might have done to incur her rebuffing him. Try as he might, he could not think of anything he had done. Shrugging philosophically, he settled in to watch the race. Slim, Beth and both boys joined him as the riders began to line up.

There were ten riders lined up spanning Main Street. They were to race through town, up the hill past the schoolhouse, out to the great Oak tree a mile past the city limits, circle the tree and race back to the starting line. Most of the contestants were local farmers and ranchers riding their ranch horses. There were two riders in the race Luke didn't recognize. Their horses were sleek and looked like they were bred to run. He had heard that a couple easterners might bring in their fancy racing horses and assumed that's who they were. He was still confident in his ability to win. He'd worked and conditioned Sundowner in preparation for this race. He wanted the prize money and the recognition of having the best and fastest horse in the county. It would go a long ways towards helping him build his reputation as a breeder and trainer. While Jess had built his reputation for producing quality ranch horses, Luke wanted to be known as a breeder and trainer of racing horses. He hoped one day he would have the same kind of reputation as Jess.

The sound of the starting gun sent the horses and riders off in a cloud of dust. Luke and one of the unknown riders were in the lead almost immediately. The rest of the competitors seemed to settle into a pack a good length behind the leaders. It was clear from the beginning the race belonged to either Luke or the easterner. They swept out of town, leaving the other riders in their wake. The whole crowd was on its feet straining to see the riders beyond the city limits. There were shouted reports relayed back to the crowd as the riders reached the one mile limit and would be turning to head back into town. According to the reports, Luke and the easterner were continuously swapping leads – first one in front and then the other, with no clear single leader.

They could tell the leaders were getting close to town by the crowd's roar. Luke and the easterner soon came into sight. Sundowner's gray nose was a stark contrast to the brown horse the easterner rode. There was no sign of the other eastern horse and the pack of riders was strung out well behind the two horses. Even nearing the finish line, the two horses were nose and nose as one edged out the other only to fall behind again. It was a constant swapping of leadership which kept the crowd on their feet cheering wildly.

Then just as quickly as it began, the race was over. The race had been so close that everyone argued over which horse had won. The crowd quieted, waiting for the official decision. Jess was one of the loudest to be heard cheering when Luke and Sundowner were declared the winners. The win meant a lot for both him and Luke – Jess because of the bloodlines he'd bred and Luke for his racing training. Slim sat in the grand stands grinning ear to ear. He'd just won enough money to buy Nate's new saddle, the dress for Beth, and a nice sum towards that trip to Denver he and Beth wanted to take. He was greatly pleased. Sitting beside him, Beth wondered just what her husband had done to make him so happy over the outcome of a race he had no stake in. Then again, she had strong suspicions there had been some wagering going on over the race – obviously, Slim had won his bet.

There was a small interlude while the contestants cooled down and put away their horses followed by a lunch break. Everyone would meet at the shooting range at one o'clock for the Marksmanship competition.

MARKSMANSHIP COMPETITION

Jess and Slim looked over their shooting competitors. There were several ranchers and farmers whom they knew to be good shots. However, they were still pretty sure that one of them would take home the prize money. There had been few years when neither Slim nor Jess won the prize. Usually it was a fluke or an injury because they were rarely bested at shooting. Although there was a friendly rivalry between them, there was no actual jealously about who won. They had along ago acknowledged that with a rifle, they were virtually equal shooters.

Therefore, it was no surprise when one by one, the other shooters were eliminated, and the contest came down to Slim and Jess. The judges kept moving the targets further and further away yet neither man missed his mark. Although Jess leaned on his cane between shootings, when it came time to shoot, he was rock solid. After a while, it became clear that both Slim and Jess were 'in the zone' that day and neither seemed likely to make a mistake. The Committee finally ended the competition by declaring a tie and splitting the money between the two joint winners. Both Slim and Jess were grinning ear to ear when they shook hands. This year's contest had tested their skills to the maximum and they had both never missed a shot.

It had been a great and fun week of competitions and attending the carnival. Later that night would be the Charity Dance, concluding the week's activities. The town returned to their homes to prepare for the evening.

**CHAPTER TEN – THE CHARITY DANCE**

Jess had been looking forward to the Charity dance. But, having hurt his leg during the calf roping, he knew he would not be doing any dancing. However, he was hoping to see Miss Peterson again and perhaps take her for a walk or convince her to sit out a dance with him. It was not meant to be.

When Miss Peterson had spotted him at the dance, she had frowned in disapproval, studiously avoiding him whenever possible. She took great pains to dance with anyone who asked her. If Jess approached her, she would turn and walk away. Jess was perplexed over her behavior. They'd had a good time at the other dance. Jess still was mystified over what had changed between them in the span of only a couple weeks. As the evening progressed and Jess found himself continually rebuffed by Miss Peterson, he found his temper rising. He didn't mind if someone was angry with him over something he'd done, but she gave him no clue as to why she was angry with him.

The dance was nearly over before he had a chance to corner her for an explanation. It was unlike him to merely walk up, grasp her arm and tell her she was taking a walk with him – but he did it anyway. Loathe to create another public scene, she allowed him to lead her out into the cool evening air. As soon as they were away from the crowd, she ripped her arm from his grasp and turned on him, anger burning in her eyes.

Still clueless as to what caused the change in her attitude towards him, Jess asked."What did I do to make you mad at me? I thought we were starting to get to know each other. I sure enjoyed dancing with you last time."

Looking him up and down in disgust, her answer was clipped as she hissed at him. "I want nothing to do with you MR. HARPER. You are a most despicable man. I know all about you – you worthless saddle tramp." She turned then, intent on returning to the dance. When Jess grasped her hand to stop her, she rounded on him, delivering a slap that rattled his teeth. By the time he'd recovered from the shock, she was lost in the crowd of party goers. Surprised, bewildered, and angry, he could only stare at the empty doorway. As the strains of the last dance began to fade away, he resolutely made his way around to the building's vestibule to collect his gun before joining up with Slim and Beth for the ride home. Although they both noticed Jess' foul mood, neither Beth nor Slim said anything.

**CHAPTER ELEVEN – SCHOOL BEGINS**

"You want me to go?" Slim asked Jess. Jess just looked at him as he dropped his stirrup into place and sighed a heavy sigh.

"Naw. It's my turn. You went last time Mort asked for a deputy. 'sides, he needs a tracker and we both know that's me." He shook his head as he led Traveler from the barn, Slim walking along beside him.

"Then what's eating at you? Never seen you reluctant to go before."

"School starts tomorrow, and I'll be gone for at least a week. I don't know how it's going to go for Marc. I still don't know what I done, but she's sure got no use for me and I don't want her takin' it out on him."

Slim nodded his understanding. Miss Peterson had taken no pains to hide her contempt toward Jess, although no one in town, including Beth, had a clue as to her antagonism.

"Beth and I can register him if you want. We'll keep an eye on things."

Jess slapped Slim's arm good naturedly.

"Naw, got it covered. Katie's gonna take him in. Mrs. Wells was going to do it but she's not feeling real well right now." He hopped aboard Traveler, gave a quick wave and rode off saying. "I'll see ya, when I see ya." Slim stood in the yard for a few minutes, watching him ride away, before turning and heading out to do his own ranch work.

**THE NEXT DAY**

Katie stood in line behind Beth, both boys at their sides. Miss Peterson smiled as Beth registered Nate, but her smile faded when Katie stepped forward to register Marc. There was no question this was Jess Harper's son. The boy had his father's dark, unruly hair and cobalt eyes, yet carried the more delicate features she recognized as her friend Brianna's. Miss Peterson struggled to hide the frown that crossed her face over Mrs. Stone taking on the duties the father needed to do. It didn't seem to matter that Mr. Harper was away on posse duty. After all, Mrs. Stone was Mr. Harper's mistress. She wondered how the town tolerated such indecent goings on – especially with the obvious age difference.

Once again, she wondered at the age difference between Mr. Harper and Mrs. Stone. Where was Mr. Stone? Was he the same Mr. Stone who had won the horse race? Or was the last name just a co-incidence and Mrs. Stone was either divorced or widowed. No wonder the townspeople wouldn't talk about Jess Harper. He was the epitome of a living, breathing scandal. Of course,they would be embarrassed to have someone whom the Sheriff thought so highly of, be at the center of the town's gossip. Then again, Harper could still be a wanted criminal. She was sure the Sheriff was still protecting Harper. How could the town possibly hold these two men in such high regard?

The remainder of the day went along well, with the students and teacher getting to know each other. Harper's son seemed to have a difficult time settling down, but then so did several of the other children. Although, for some reason, his talking out of turn seemed to annoy her more than did the other's antics.

**CHAPTER TWELVE** – **TESTING THE NEW TEACHER**

Of course, it was only a matter of days before the older boys began to test the new schoolteacher. She had her hands full maintaining discipline. Someone managed to stick a match into the soul of her shoe and lit it afire, laughing when she jumped over the unexpected hot foot. Firecrackers were lit off, causing some of the girls to scream in fright. Some of the boys would chase the girls with their pet bullfrogs – which the boys seemed to carry in their overall pockets. Miss Peterson was not surprised to find tacks or glue on her chair or a variety of crawling creatures in and around her desk. Girl's braids were routinely dunked in the inkwells of the desk behind them and the boys seemed to thrive on spitting contests. Through it all, Miss Peterson kept an eye on Marcus. He still talked out of turn in class and always seemed to be among those causing trouble, although she never actually saw him do anything. No matter, she was sure he was guilty of some of the shenanigans and knew the day would come when he would have to be disciplined, perhaps sharply. She'd already made him stay after school and clean the slate board's erasers several times.

Miss Peterson handled it all calmly and professionally until the day she opened her desk drawer to find a snake slithering around within its confines. Startled, but keeping her wits about her, she quickly identified the snake as a harmless grass snake. Fighting her revulsion of the slimy creature, she grasped it behind the head with one hand and picked up its body with the other. Pretending to ignore the classroom, she walked over to the open window and gently tossed the snake out onto the ground, shaking her finger at the retreating reptile and saying: "Homer, I thought I told you that you belong outside. You are not allowed to play inside. Now you just get along home where you belong."

She quickly shut the window, dusted off her hands and returned to her desk as if nothing had happened. Glancing over the classroom, she was secretly pleased to see the stunned faces on several of her male pupils. In a quiet but authoritative voice she spoke to the classroom. "I trust that will be the last of this type of behavior. The next such incident will find the perpetrator getting a spanking in front of the classroom."

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN – THE WHITE RAT**

The pranks quieted down for the next few days and Miss Peterson was starting to relax, hoping the continued incidences of the children testing her had finally come to an end. That was, until the day the white rat made its appearance in the classroom. It ran across the floor, up and over the bookcase, and back down, continuing to cause havoc among the students. The girls immediately climbed onto their desks while the boys all attempted to catch the rodent. Marc stood up grinning, holding the captured rat gently in his hands. All of the boys knew whom it belonged to, so Marc knew it was tame and safe to handle. His smile faded when Miss Peterson yelled at him. Standing up from her desk, she was suddenly ten feet tall, towering over him. The paddle board she held looked as big as her desk.

"Marcus Harper. I see that you didn't heed my warning from the other day."

"Ma'am?" Marc tried to answer. "This ain't . . ." he was cut off by Miss Peterson again.

"I told the whole class what would happen if there were any more of these disruptive incidents." She sounded resigned to the necessity of enforcing the punishment.

"You caught that – that disgusting critter. Obviously, it belongs to you – or you had a hand in this disruption. Therefore, you shall take the punishment."

"It ain't even mine!" Marc cried out. "I didn't have nothing to do with it."

"It's not yours, yet you were able to capture it? I think you are a liar." She stated.

"But, Miss Peterson . . ." Marc began, only to be interrupted again.

"Hand that vile creature to Nate there, and come forward." She commanded him. He could detect no anger in her voice, yet the threat of undeserved punishment bothered him. Marc swallowed and handed the rat to Nate, who had come to stand by his side.

"But, Miss Peterson . . ." Nate tried to interject only to have the teacher cut him off.

"This is none of your concern, Mr. Sherman. The decision has been made. He shall take the punishment for the disruption – unless someone else cares to admit their wrong doing."

Chin trembling, Marc held his head high as he approached Miss Peterson's desk. Following her directions, he leaned over, bracing his hands on her desk. The crack of the paddle striking his bottom echoed in the small schoolhouse. Marc closed his eyes, fighting back the tears, yet not one sound came from him. The girls looked away while the boys cast their eyes downward, deeply ashamed as the paddle struck a second time. Miss Peterson instructed Marc to return to his seat. His chin still trembled as he gingerly took his seat, but he refused to let the tears fall. Miss Peterson resumed class instruction as if nothing had happened. As soon as school was dismissed, Nate came forward to Marc's side. Putting his arm around Marc's shoulders, he escorted Marc out of the schoolhouse.

Nate knew his mom was at the General Store, so he took Marc there. Beth could see immediately that something was wrong. Marc hadn't said a word but upon seeing Beth, he couldn't hold it any longer. He threw his arms around her waist and broke down sobbing. Nate explained what had happened at school. Beth was still debating what action to take, when Jess walked in. Marc was immediately in his arms, sobbing uncontrollably against Jess' shoulder. Jess shushed his son, rubbing his back comfortingly; assuring him everything would be all right. Between Marc and Nate, he was able to get the whole story. Marc swore he had nothing to do with letting the rat loose – had only caught it. Nate backed him up completely, although neither would tell just whom the mouse did belong to but reinforcing it getting loose had been an accident.

Once Jess had Marc calmed down, he asked Beth to watch his son for him. Beth nodded her agreement, watching as the rancher turned and headed for the door. Based upon the determination of his stride, Beth was sure she didn't want to be Miss Peterson right now. Fireworks were about to explode.

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN – THE STORM CLOUD CALLED JESS HARPER**

Miss Peterson stared at the contents of the envelope before her. She had found it pushed under the door to her rental house sometime during the rodeo. The envelope was unmarked, and she had no idea who would have any reason to leave her something anonymously. She sat at her desk reviewing the envelope's contents for perhaps the hundredth time since finding it. The papers contained therein only heightened her distrust and disgust of the man they called Jess Harper. She was almost sorry he was a wanted man, because she had begun to like him – until the envelope had crossed her doorstep. As she originally had surmised, he was an outlaw. Who was he really? Their altercation at the Charity Dance had been the last time she had seen him. Then Mrs. Stone had been bold and unashamed of their relationship when she had brought Marcus in for school registration. The papers and wanted posters only confirmed what she thought about Mr. Harper – he was a wanted criminal. How could the Sheriff let the man walk around loose among honest people? Was the Sheriff crooked? Was he taking a payoff to let Mr. Harper remain in Laramie?

When the schoolhouse door slammed shut, she looked up to see the object of her thoughts advancing towards her. There was no mistaking the thundercloud body language emanating from him. There was nothing friendly in his demeanor. His fists were clenched and a firm set to his jaw as he came closer. Frightened, Miss Peterson stood up, looking around for anything she could use as a weapon. She hadn't replaced her derringer and sorely wished she had it with her now. According to the papers from the envelope, Harper was deadly with the gun on his hip and it scared her as much as did his physical presence. Yet her heart beat faster for another reason – one she didn't immediately recognize or acknowledge. She couldn't help noticing the dark wavy hair under the black hat and the muscular body of the angry man rapidly descending upon her.

He stopped in front of her desk, his eyes dark with fury. "Don't no one ever touch my son." He growled without preamble, pointing a gloved finger at her. "You punished him in front of the whole class for something he didn't do."

"He's just like you isn't he? He deserved it." She returned, trying not to show her fear. "He let the rat loose and disrupted the entire classroom."

"You see him do it?"

"No."

"Then how you know he done it? You ask him if he done it?"

"Why, no, he vehemently denied he owned it. He had it in his hand – obviously he owned it."

"He didn't have nothing to do with that incident, and he denied it because he don't own that rat and my boy don't lie." His voice was getting lower, more threatening.

Miss Peterson was slowly backing away from his close proximity. He advanced as she retreated until she found herself trapped in the corner. She tried to push past him but his hands on the walls blocked her escaping him. She struggled, pushing vainly at his arms. They were solid arms, a working man's arms. The thought flashed her mind how good they had felt holding her the night they had danced. He was awfully close, yet there was a good distance between their bodies. Somewhere, her subconscious recognized the scent of soap mingled with dust and horses. She didn't mind it one bit and for just a fleeting moment succumbed to its allure. Pushing the errant thought away, her fear returned, and she still wanted to scream, afraid she'd pass out from fright. She turned on him then, fire in her eyes as she defended herself, using her words as weapons.

"That's what all parents say. Their precious children couldn't possibly tell a lie."

"My son doesn't lie. He knows he'll get in more trouble for lying than for anything he might do. He ain't no saint, that's for sure. But I done taught him he'd best be telling the truth."

She started to say something, but he cut her off. "I saw the papers on your desk. It's true I haven't always been on the right side of the law. I've lived hard and fast; been places I shouldn't oughta been and done things I shouldn't oughta done – and I paid for it with a year out of my life." He saw her eyes widen. "Ya, I spent time in the Territorial Prison. Does it matter that I didn't do what I was convicted of and the Governor pardoned me? I got papers to prove it. Do you feel better knowing you're right – that I'm a criminal? I wasn't guilty but I'm branded a criminal just the same. But I never lied and I never stole. I only killed them that were trying to kill me first. I spent my whole life branded as something I'm not. You're not going to paint my son with the same paintbrush. He's young and he's going to do things to get himself in trouble. But one thing my son doesn't do – and that is lie."

"Like you'd know the truth if it jumped up and bit you. You – you're still a wanted criminal. You're living a lie right now! How much did you pay the Sheriff to let you stay here? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, that's for sure. You're living a lie and I'm sure your son is a liar too. He's following in your footsteps all right. How soon before he's wanted for robbery or murder? I bet Brianna is just so proud of how you're raising your son. Did she even know about your past?" She spat her words at him. She was too far into her self-righteous tirade to see the effect her words were having. She stopped, suddenly realizing he was looking, unseeing, past her head before his eyes dropped and he struck a fist against the wall. He had a strange look in his eyes when he looked at her again - something there she didn't recognize.

"Bree knew everything about me. Everything – and she accepted me as I was." His voice was quiet, filled with regret – and loneliness. Too late, she recognized the pain in his eyes. He had obviously loved Brianna as much as Bree had loved him. Cassandra had wanted to hurt him, but not like this. She had been careless with her words because she was jealous. The shocking realization struck her forcefully – she was angry at him because she was jealous. She was jealous of Mrs. Stone. She was jealous of the love he obviously still held for Brianna. She looked at him in fear as he again tensed but then stepped away from her. Turning to her desk, he began collecting the papers lying there, and stuffing them back into the envelope. She tried to stop him, fighting to retrieve them from him, fearing he was going to burn them, destroying all the evidence as to his misdeeds. He effortlessly brushed her attempts aside.

She was shocked when he firmly yet gently grasped her upper arm. The man terrified her, yet a thrill coursed through her at his touch. She was perplexed by the look on his face. Then his voice was sorrowful, almost apologetic. "Lady," he began, "You can say what you want about me. It don't hurt me 'cause it's probably been true at one time or another. But these papers," He held up the envelope. "They're past history. I ain't wanted no wheres. You'll not judge my son by my sins. And you just accused our Sheriff of being a crook. Mort Cory's one of the best men I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. He's taken care of this town and dedicated his life to it. You'll not drag his name through the mud. I thought we were starting to have an understanding – you'd come to trust me and who I am. But an envelope full of lies and you turn on me. You're done making false accusations. We're going to the Sheriff's office and then maybe you might learn a little bit about life. What I am or have been is none of your business. I'm in the clear and have been for many a year. I'm going to press charges against you for what you done to me. Perhaps a little time in jail will give you time to think things through."

She gave a strangled cry at his threat of jail time. The mere thought horrified her. She started to try to pull away from him, only to have him shake her gently. "You got a choice." He threatened. "You either walk down to the jail on your own accord or I'll carry you. Don't make no difference to me 'cause you're going one way or the other."

Cassandra closed her mouth, swallowed hard, and nodded that she'd walk with him. If she'd expected him to release her arm, she was sorely mistaken. He not only kept his grip on her arm, but also walked along at a pace requiring her to hustle to keep up with him. He practically dragged her along. She would have struggled against him and protested loudly, except she had enough presence of mind to follow along, thus not attracting any more attention than they were already garnering.

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN – JESS PRESSES CHARGES**

Mort Cory watched with interest as Jess dragged a protesting Cassandra Peterson past his desk, picked up the keys, and locked the woman into a jail cell. Jess then closed the door between the cells and the office before returning the keys to their peg. Cassandra rattled the door to her cell, terrified and feeling like a caged animal. Her screams demanding to be released immediately and that he was the one who belonged in a jail cell – not her – reverberated through the closed door. To add insult to injury, Jess closed the look-through window of the intervening door, effectively muffling her tirade. Heaving a heavy sigh, Jess sat down across from Mort, saying he'd decided to press charges for her shooting him and then also for her attack upon him in the General Store.

Mort scratched the side of his head in confusion before leaning forward, studying Jess intently. There was something different about Jess, something that was bothering him greatly. The incidents had been weeks ago, and Jess was the most forgiving man he knew. Something sure had happened for him to change his mind and bring the woman in for prosecution. He waited, knowing Jess would spill it when he was ready. He knew you couldn't hurry Jess, especially when he was working something out for himself.

Jess tossed the envelope onto Mort's desk, indicating for the Sheriff to open it. Jess rose and walked restlessly around the office while Mort examined the contents. "When's it gonna end, Mort?" he asked, not expecting an answer. "Someone slipped that to her – someone who wanted to discredit me – again. And she took the bait - hook, line and sinker. When I confronted her about punishing Marc for something he didn't do, she went off the deep end – accused me of having a mistress, that I'm a wanted criminal and paying you off to keep from being jailed." He shook his head sadly, his hands jammed in his back pockets. He sat back down, arms crossed as he stared at the ceiling. "I can't do this anymore. After everything I've done, after everything I've built, it all comes back down to this. I won't let my son be tainted by my past. I think I should take Marc and head for Oregon." He didn't want to leave Laramie because it was his home. But he would do anything to protect his children. There, he'd said it. Said what had been on his mind since Marc had become school age. The previous schoolteacher hadn't had any problems with Jess and his history of violence. Then again, that teacher had lived in Laramie through Jess's maturing years, watching him change into the man he'd become.

But this new teacher, she'd been afraid of him from their first meeting. He could understand her fright at being a woman alone and being chased by some riders. But that didn't excuse her attacking him with the whip and then shooting him, nor the second physical attack upon him in the General Store. He'd thought they'd cleared that up and there might actually be some mutual interest in each other. However, her verbal attack upon him at the school let him know just how much of a low life she considered him. He wasn't about to let her take her feelings about him out on his son. That was something he just wouldn't tolerate.

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN - INCARCERATION**

Mort Cory almost felt sorry for Miss Peterson – almost. When he'd taken supper in to her, she looked so lost and alone. Perhaps woebegone was a better description. She had refused to eat, looking at the sheriff with sad eyes.

"What's going to happen to me now?" She'd asked in a subdued voice. She was sitting on the cot, head down, rubbing her hands against each other nervously.

"That depends upon the Circuit Judge. You'll be held until he arrives. He's scheduled for the end of next week. Since Jess pressed charges, there'll be a hearing and maybe a trial. It'll depend upon how you plead." Mort had been matter-of-fact in his explanation – neither embellishing nor diminishing the seriousness of the charges against the woman. She leaped from her seat on the cot, grabbing onto the cell bars.

"A week!" She exclaimed. "I can't stay locked up for a week!" She paced the cell, a hand placed worriedly against her head. "What about the children? Their schooling? This'll ruin my reputation. I can't stay locked up in jail. What will the parents think? I'll lose my job. They'll run me out of town."

Mort was apologetic. "I'm afraid the week isn't the only thing you have to worry about. If you're convicted or plead guilty, you'll probably be sentenced to 30 days incarceration and maybe community service."

Cassandra looked at him horrified. "Thirty days in jail? Community service? Me? Work out in public as part of my sentence? In chains like a common criminal? Ohhh, no – that is NOT going to happen."

"I'm sorry Miss Peterson, but that's the way it is. It's not up to me. The Judge will have the final say." He turned to go. "Do you need anything before I lock up? Try to get some sleep. Let Jess cool off a bit. He might change his mind once he's had time to think about it. Tomorrow's Saturday, so it won't affect the school day. We'll talk again come morning."

Cassandra's heart sank when Mort turned down the light and closed the door behind him. She could hear him moving around in the outer office. At least he didn't leave the jail entirely – she wasn't locked up alone in an empty building. She lay down on the uncomfortable cot – and cried. It wasn't fair – she'd been doing her job and maintaining discipline. It just happened to have been Harper's kid she had disciplined. Would this happen every time she disciplined a student? No- Jess Harper had taken this action in retaliation – because she had spurned his advances. She hated him. He was a lying, murdering outlaw.

The papers in the envelope said he was a criminal but the sheriff supported him wholeheartedly. It was all just too confusing. If she were charged with a crime, her career was over. Damn that Harper – why did he ever come into her life? Why did she care? Was she really that jealous over her best friend's husband – or was it over that woman-child he apparently co-habitated with? He'd seemed so nice and was certainly easy on the eyes. He was a respected rancher, yet he was a criminal. He couldn't be both – could he?

Even though she was used to living alone, being alone in the jail cell was unnerving. She suddenly knew what it was like to lose her freedom. At home she could do as she pleased, go where she pleased, when she pleased. It was frightening knowing she was dependent upon her jailer for everything, confined to the cell, unable to do more than pace the 10 x 10 room rimed in steel bars. Tears stained her cheeks as she fell asleep wondering what the future would bring.

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – THE TEACHER GETS LECTURED**

Mort sat back in his chair, staring silently at a subdued Cassandra Peterson. She had just endured a very serious lecture by the quiet Sheriff. Through all of her protesting about the criminal Jess Harper, he had devotedly shot down one accusation after the other. To her chagrin, she learned that every one of the wanted posters had been recalled. She was further informed of his many contributions to the town. Sure, Jess had been wild when he'd first landed in Laramie, but time had cured that. And, yes, Jess had a rough and violent past history. It was just that – in the past.

Cassandra was suitably ashamed of her actions. She thought Mort wasn't going to answer when she asked about the hearing terminating Jess' parental rights, but she had to know. Brianna had been her best friend. Did Bree's widowed husband really care for the children – both children? He was incredibly defensive of Marcus, but what was he like otherwise?

Mort had indeed hesitated to say anything about that hearing. But Jess had given him permission to say what he thought needed to be said, so he began. "That is a travesty which should never have happened. When Jess' wife Brianna died, Jess lost it for a while. But he recovered and dedicated himself to raising Katie and Marc."

Cassandra interrupted him, "Where's Katie? I've only met Marcus."

"You've met Katie. You were probably introduced to her as Katherine Stone. She's married to Luke Stone now. She's who signed Marcus up for school when Jess was riding posse for me."

"Stone? Katherine Stone is Katie?" Cassandra couldn't have been more embarrassed. Katie had been the auburn-haired woman hugging and kissing Mr. Harper at the fair. She now realized that the woman had only kissed his cheeks; and he had not kissed her, something you would expect a lover to do. She was jealous. The idea struck her as if she'd suffered a physical blow. She had been jealous of what turned out to be a father and daughter greeting each other. If she hadn't been sufficiently ashamed of herself before, she certainly was now. She'd had no call for any of her actions. She hung her head, unable to look at the kind Sheriff. Mort waited until she processed the information before continuing.

"When Marc was about six months old, Brianna's sister from Boston came out to visit. Only she had every intention of taking the children back east with her. Just like you, she had copies of all the wanted posters but not the information that they had been recalled and Jess absolved of any wrongdoing. That's when the town closed ranks to protect Jess and his children. Jess was and is a good father. He'd worked too hard to turn his life around and was too well respected for the town to let anyone hurt him that way. Jess is a private man and the town respects that. I expect you to do the same. He's a good man who has put his life on the line more than once and the town owes him a debt of gratitude – which is why they stand behind him." Mort waited a few more moments before continuing. "Miss Peterson." He said. "If Jess Harper pulls up stakes and moves on, the fault will lie squarely at your feet. The townspeople won't take kindly to losing him because of your stupidity and accusations."

Cassandra's head shot up. "What do you mean about him moving on?" She queried anxiously.

"I mean just what I said. Because of you and your accusations, Jess is thinking of pulling up stakes and heading for Oregon. He figures there no one will know of his past and won't take it out on Marc. He'll do anything to protect his children – even leave the first home he's had since he was fifteen."

Cassandra stared at the floor, unable to say anything. Finally, she raised teary eyes to look at the Sheriff. "Please don't let him leave because of me. I was wrong, so wrong." Tears escaped and there were a few moments before she gained control of herself again. "I'm sorry. Where do we go from here?" she asked, all fight gone out of her.

"Well, like I told you last night, you'll stay here until the Circuit Judge arrives."

Cassandra looked at the Sheriff with tears still in her eyes. "I'm ruined. I'll have to resign. I'll never be able to get another teaching job."

Mort let her ramble on without saying a word, letting her wallow in her self-pity. When she finally ran out of recriminations, he asked her a question. "Now, how do you think Jess felt about being falsely accused? And you didn't even have the decency to ask him yourself – or come to me. I'd have told you about the posters and been able to assure you he was honorable. But you didn't even trust me – decided I was crooked. Really, Miss Peterson, maybe you don't belong here in the west." She started to answer but Mort cut her off. "You came here with a good reputation – a respected schoolteacher. But Jess came here a wild one and had to build his, to be trusted by the townspeople. You'd met him when he stopped your runaway buggy. He didn't do anything to threaten you, yet you assumed he was an outlaw. For gosh sakes, he was wearing his Deputy's badge."

"I didn't see it – really I didn't. I was too afraid after being chased and the horse running away." She responded, trying and failing to sound righteous.

"Things aren't always the way they seem, are they?"

"You mean like Marc Harper catching the run-away rat and I blamed him without asking the right questions or listening when both he and Nate swore he wasn't involved."

Mort nodded. "You're starting to get the picture."

"And maybe I shouldn't have assumed Mr. Harper was an outlaw because of the way he looked? She shook her head and looked at the floor before raising her head and looking at the Sheriff. "I've been a fool- A monumental fool."

"Well, I'm not going to argue about that." Mort exclaimed, nodding in agreement and then standing, reaching for the cell keys.

Cassandra stood up, turning towards the cells. "I guess you have to lock me back up now. But thank you for letting me out while we talked. I'm beginning to understand the ways things are out here." She tried to hide the hitch in her breath upon hearing the steel doors shut and the key turn in the lock. She turned back to the Sheriff, one hand on the cold bars. "I'm sorry. I'm truly sorry about all of this." She said sorrowfully. Her reputation was ruined, and she had no one to blame but herself.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to." Was all Mort said before nodding and closing the door between the two rooms.

Cassandra paced her cell, arms wrapped around herself for comfort. There wasn't much light coming from the window. There was barely room to walk 4 steps before she encountered a wall. It was only a short while before the cell seemed to grow smaller, hemming her in. She began to feel claustrophobic, unable to imagine spending a whole week in this confined space. Except for when the Sheriff delivered her meals, there was no interruption to the emptiness, which surrounded her; nothing to still the numerous jumbled thoughts that ran through her mind. Even knowing the Sheriff was just on the other side of the door held no comfort. She was alone, and the aloneness ate at her worse than anything else. The day stretched on endlessly. One day- and she was ready to climb the walls. She had no idea how she was going to tolerate a week – or a month if that's what the Judge decided.

The Sheriff was a kind man, but a lawman. He'd made that abundantly clear during his lecture. He was a fair man, a friend to many, yet a lawman first and foremost. It hadn't taken him long to dissuade her of her thoughts he was crooked. In spite of the circumstances, she knew honesty when she saw it.

Or did she? She certainly hadn't allowed either Jess or Marc Harper to state their cases with her. She'd gone on the attack – accusing each of them of wrong doing without evidence. And she had made assumptions about Mr. Harper – assumptions which were so wrong she didn't know how she could ever make up for her actions.

Arms still wrapped around herself, Cassandra studied her cell, remembering Jess telling her he'd been in the Territorial Prison for a year. She tried to imagine what that had been like. Here, she was alone in her cell, wearing her own clothing. She'd been fed decent food at regular intervals. If she needed anything, all she had to do was call out to the Sheriff. She didn't have to share anything, be around anyone, or put up with anyone's cleanliness – or lack thereof.

How large were the cells in the prison? She'd heard there were four to six men in each cell. The cell she was in would barely hold two - were four or six men crowded into this small of a space? Did they really have to sleep on the floor or fight over scraps of food in order to stay alive? She'd seen pictures of the inmates –thin, unshaven, unkempt, wearing threadbare and ill-fitting clothing, and chained together like animals while they worked backbreaking jobs as punishment. She shuddered, thinking of an incarcerated Jess as a younger man. The sheriff said he'd been a wild and angry – how had he fared in prison?

She knew guards had stood over the prisoners with guns and whips. She'd heard rumors of how inmates were punished – the guards given free rein as to do what they considered necessary to keep them in line. Cassandra shuddered again. It was bad enough stuck in this cell by herself. She couldn't imagine being in a cell with four or five other bodies, all angry over their incarceration, fighting for space or food or clothing. Had they gone hungry? Had they been subjected to being struck with the gun butts or whipped? Was it really survival of the fittest?

Cassandra drew her hand down the brick wall, suddenly knowing how Jess' life could have gone another way – how prison could have hardened him, turned him into the outlaw he'd been branded as. She hadn't even been in jail a full day and was already feeling cramped and itchy to get out. What had it been like for him – trapped in far worse conditions, with no way out – and innocent of the charges he'd been convicted of? Cassandra leaned against the cell bars, silent tears staining her checks as she wept over the injustices the man had had to endure. She now thoroughly regretted her contribution in causing more grief to a man who had worked so hard to turn his life around.

She didn't know how she would stand up to the thirty days of incarceration the Sheriff indicated a Judge would order. She couldn't even begin to relate to the thirty days she'd been threatened with - or serving community service, having to do menial work while in the public eye. Not only would she lose her job as a schoolteacher, she would be shamed and unable to get another teaching job. She would be labeled a criminal for the rest of her life. Cold reality washed over her as she realized how her accusations had similarly affected Jess Harper's life. She had to admit, she had learned a very valuable lesson. The tears of shame and remorse flowed freely as Cassandra continued to review her life, her assumptions, and her feelings – many of which revolved around a tall, dark haired rancher. In her mind, he was no longer the outlaw she feared, but an honorable rancher, a man who could be trusted. Her heart ached for the possible friendship – or more – that she had destroyed with her naivety. She cried herself to sleep for the second night in a row.

It was early Sunday morning when Mort came to the cell and told her to collect her things. Puzzled, she did as instructed. When she turned around, Mort was holding the cell door open.

"You're free to go. Jess said once you'd learned your lesson to release you. He dropped all of the charges."

She didn't know whether to laugh or cry or be furious with the Sheriff and Jess Harper. She'd gone through a personal hell being locked up in that cell. But now she understood – she truly understood – the town and the people within it were good people – People honorable enough to stand up for and behind a single father just doing his best to make a living and raise his children. She understood how her best friend Brianna, had fallen in love with Jess Harper – because he really was something special. The town knew it – and now so did she. She had a lot of humble pie to eat and she didn't know where to begin. Mort watched the different emotions wash over Cassandra's face. Correctly interpreting her change in attitude, softly answered her unasked question. "Your best place to start would be a talk with Beth Sherman."

Mort preceded Cassandra to the outer door, holding it open for her. "Don't worry. Everyone is in church. No one will see you leaving, if that's what you're worried about. Take care, Miss Peterson."

Still in a daze, Cassandra exited the Sheriff's office. She walked along the sidewalk and then the path leading her to the house she'd rented. She was deep in thought, mulling over the things she'd learned. She knew she needed to apologize to both Marc and Jess Harper. That wouldn't be easy under any circumstances. Now, it seemed an impossible task.

She was relieved to reach her house without being seen, seeking refuge within its familiar walls. As she looked around, she was grateful for the experience. Heaven forbid if the society ladies ever found out she'd spent two nights in jail. Then again, it might be worth seeing the old geezer's faces when they learned of her mis-adventure. She certainly had a different understanding of the town, the Sheriff and Mr. Jess Harper now. She lay down on her bed fully clothed, murmuring, "I know why you loved him Bree." She fell into an exhausted sleep, thoughts of Jess Harper swirling in her dreams.

**CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – BETH WRITES**

I wasn't sure what was going to happen when Jess headed for the schoolhouse. If he had an explosive temper when he first came to Laramie, it was nothing compared to how he reacted if someone wronged his children. He'd always had a soft spot for women and children. But once he had Katie and Marc, he became extremely protective of them – especially after Katie's kidnapping and their Aunt's attempt at taking them away. Jess lived for his children and still didn't tolerate false accusations from anyone. He believed in justice and right and wrong. And, his children knew exactly what would happen if they ever lied to him. Therefore, I knew Miss Peterson was in for some explosive Jess Harper temper because she had dared to not only accuse Marc, but had punished him. Jess wasn't going to stand for that. He'd lived too much of his life falsely accused to allow the same thing to befall his children.

It definitely caused a few raised eyebrows when Jess escorted Miss Peterson to the Sheriff's office. Even when that man isn't trying to cause a commotion, he causes a commotion. They were in there for a very long time. When Jess came out, he just mounted up and rode out of town. I don't know if he told Slim what had transpired, but neither one said anything to me. No one saw Miss Peterson leave and, when she didn't attend church on Sunday, there was a rumor Jess had actually pressed charges and she was in jail awaiting the Judge's arrival. However, she was back in school early Monday morning, so the buzz died down quickly, the assumption being that they had just not seen her exit from the jail. Everyone was quite surprised when she apologized to Marc in front of the entire school. That seemed to be the end of it – until she came into the General Store.

I tried not to act surprised to see her. After all, my store is where most of the town got their supplies. It's just that her visits had been few and far between ever since the rodeo. The visit got stranger still, when she didn't pick up anything, merely drifting around the store until everyone else had left. Glancing continuously over her shoulder towards the door, she finally approached me at the counter. There was something different about her. She seemed hesitant to speak at first. She had reached across the counter, taking my hands in hers, as the words tumbled out of her.

I was so shocked, I didn't know what to say. Realizing she had been too familiar with me, she withdrew her hands from mine. Now I needed something to do with them. She followed me over to the fabrics, automatically putting tension on the cloth as I wound it onto the bolt. This was an entirely different woman than the one who had attacked Jess in the store, who had cursed him, and threatened _him_ with jail. Whatever had happened that day at the jailhouse had changed her. I've never seen a more remorseful person. It was then she told me how the Sheriff had given her a royal talking to, and she'd actually been incarnated for two full nights before being released because Jess had dropped the charges. Because of the Sheriff's talk, she had come to understand how wrong she had been about everything – including how she had mistaken Katie for Jess' mistress, which had been part of the reason she had spurned him. She had apologized to Marc in front of the whole school, but now she needed to apologize to Jess and she had no idea where to begin. She had wronged him in so many ways she wasn't even sure she could make it right. She finished with Mort's suggestion she talk to me. Perhaps, just maybe, I'd be gracious enough to help her right the wrong she had committed.

I rearranged things on the shelves while deciding whether I would help her or not. Finally, I took a good look at her. She seemed sincere and I've never seen anyone so contrite.

"Do you cook?" I asked her straight out.

"What?" She looked at me in surprise.

"You know- as in pies, cakes, etc?"

"I, I guess so, no one has ever complained." She answered thoroughly confused.

"Can you bake a decent apple pie?" I was already full steam into my idea. They always say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Well, with Jess, that was doubly true. Now, I'm not saying I was encouraging Cassandra going after Jess' heart – 'cause I'd whomp her good if she hurt him. However, a fresh apple pie just might do the trick of earning his forgiveness. And right now, forgiveness is what Cassandra wanted and needed.

"I, I guess so." She was still confused. I motioned her closer and, heads together, I outlined my plan for her earning Jess' forgiveness.

CHAPTER NINETEEN – OPERATION FORGIVENESS

With a little conspiratory help from Mrs. Wells, it was arranged for her and Marc to be out of the house after supper the following evening. Cassandra Peterson waved a nervous wave towards Beth as she drove past the ranch house and up Stagecoach Lane towards Jess' house. She nearly lost her nerve as she drew to a stop. She had to fight the urge to turn around and beat a hasty retreat so she didn't have to face up to Mr. Jess Harper.

It was a different kind of fear she was experiencing. She wasn't afraid of the man now, only afraid of his reaction at seeing her again. She had no idea how he could possibly forgive her for her actions. With trembling knees, she lifted the picnic basket from the buggy and walked towards the door. The walk of a few feet felt like a million miles. Her throat went dry and she wasn't sure she could speak, as she raised a hand to knock on the wooden door.

When Jess opened the door and saw who his visitor was, he started to swing it back shut in her face. At the last minute he grabbed it and pulled it back open. "What do ya want?" He growled at her.

Cassandra's fright was such she was afraid she'd faint right there on the doorstep. Visibly trembling, she held the basket out in front of her. "I . . ." she swallowed the lump in her throat, her voice barely a squeak. "I brought you a peace offering." She held the basket up again. "It's apple pie. I . . .I want to apologize for everything I've put you through."

Jess walked away, leaving the door open. Cassandra took that as an invitation and stepped into the kitchen/dining room area, quietly closing the door behind her. He had his back to her, hands in his back pockets, looking out the window at the scenery beyond. Timidly, she set the pie on the table. She thought about just opening the cupboards and getting out the necessary plates and utensils, but then figured that was being too brazen.

"Do you think we can share the pie? I can make coffee, but you'll have to show me where things are." She was trying – really trying to make things up to him. When he didn't respond, she went ahead and moved into the kitchen, easily finding the makings for coffee sitting on the counter. She set the coffee to boil and looked around for plates.

"High cupboard, left of the sink." Was his only contribution to the conversation. She had chatted nervously as she'd made the coffee, but he hadn't been listening to her voice. He was listening to the soft swish of her skirt as she moved around. It was different from Mrs. Wells' swish. It was a young woman's swish and he liked the sound of it. It brought back some wonderful memories. He's always liked the sound of a woman's skirt swishing when she moved. His body stance softened a little as he listened to the sound of a woman in his kitchen – someone who wasn't Mrs. Wells.

She poured them both cups of coffee, bringing them to the table. She caught his attention when she asked him to sit down and talk with her while they shared the pie. Skeptical, Jess sniffed the coffee before taking a sip. It wasn't bad coffee. It wasn't as strong as he liked it, but it was passable as far as coffee went.

Cassandra had rehearsed her apology a thousand times since her meeting with Beth Sherman. It was the best she could do because she had no idea how to make up for what she had done and said – and she was eternally grateful he had dropped the charges. Because of him, she still had her teaching job and had learned a valuable lesson in the bargain. She had just started her actual apology when Jess bit into his first bite of the pie. Alarmed at the look on his face, Cassandra froze in mid-sentence when Jess bolted for the kitchen and spit it out. She watched him, puzzled, as she put her fork to her mouth. She immediately pushed him out of her way as she also spit her bite of food into the junk bucket. She looked at him, horrified, as he sputtered something about her trying to poison him.

Cassandra wiped the horrible taste of salt from her lips. Somehow, she had substituted salt for the sugar in the pie and it was totally inedible. She began to tremble and cry in embarrassment and frustration, turning away from him as she leaned on the sink. She had intended to earn his forgiveness, not make him madder at her. Suddenly she was spilling out her apology, asking for his forgiveness for everything - including the pie, her words barely understandable through her tears.

She felt his hands on her arms as he turned her towards him. Then she was in his arms, crushed against his chest as he assured her everything would be all right – and he began to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a full laugh and she found herself laughing along with him. She stepped back from him, wiping tears from her eyes. Still laughing, she tried to apologize again – promising that she hadn't intended to poison him and that she really was a good cook. His response was to place a finger against her lips, shushing her into silence. She looked up, surprised, to see him smiling before he made her promise not to cook any more apologies for him. When she nodded, he suggested they go for a walk and forget all this nonsense. Cassandra was over the moon. He had smiled at her and his voice was kind and gentle – a voice much like the first time they had met, and she'd been too frightened to recognize kindness when it was offered.

They walked in companionable silence up the lane towards the new stock corrals which had been built. Cassandra sat on a boulder while Jess lounged against a tree.

"What was Brianna like growing up?" Jess asked without warning.

Cassandra smiled, thinking of the schoolmate she had grown up with. She hugged her knees while remembering. "Brianna was a free spirit – and smart. She always had a vision of what she could do or be. She'd always planned on opening a bakery. She hadn't planned on marrying, at least not until Thomas McConnell came along. Then he swept her off her feet and all of her other plans were no longer important. He was her life and she'd follow him anywhere he wanted to go. Although, I was quite surprised when they pulled up stakes in Boston and headed for the west. But being a wife and mother were the only things that mattered to her. It was like it was her destiny. She was devastated when Tom took sick and died. He left her well off, but lonely. That's why she and Doreen decided to move on and eventually settled in Laramie. And baking, oh my gosh, she was such a whiz. There wasn't anything she couldn't do if she set her mind to it. I was so happy when she wrote that she'd opened a bakery. After being a wife and mother, it definitely was her passion." She stopped, wondering if Jess was still listening. When she looked, she could tell he was staring, unseeing, off into the night.

"Jess." She asked softly, rewarded with a "hmmmm."

"Where is Brianna buried? I looked in the church records but couldn't find her."

Jess had been twisting a long strand of grass and now threw it away. He nodded towards the family cemetery. "She's here. She was family and we buried her with the rest of the family." There was an awkward silence before he asked. "Do you . . . would you like to see where's she's buried?"

Cassandra stood up and came to him. "Yes, please. I'd like to pay my respects. We were friends for so long I can't believe she is gone. It's my fault we lost touch. I waited too long to write and didn't follow up when my letters were returned."

"I returned your letters." Jess said quietly, leading the way to the graveyard. "They were addressed to her and I didn't feel right opening them to read them. Maybe I should have and then I could have let you know." He shook his head sorrowfully. "I'm sorry. I could have spared you the shock of finding out the way you did." He stopped at the cross marking Brianna's resting place. "This is Brianna's grave."

Cassandra took in the care with which the cross had been carved. The hand lettering was intricate and exquisite. She wondered if Jess had carved it for Brianna. They stood in awkward silence for a few moments.

"You carved this for her, didn't you? You obviously loved her very much." Again, Jess was silent. Cassandra walked over to Jess and touched his shirt sleeve. "I meant it – what I said before – Brianna loved you more than life itself."

"She was the only woman I ever loved." Jess' voice was low and quiet, more like he was speaking to himself than Cassandra. "We were from two different worlds, but we were oh so good together. It wasn't easy; Bree didn't fully understand my past life – at least not at first. But as we came to know each other, she began to understand and accept me for who I was. She knew I couldn't change completely, and she accepted both parts of me – that which could and did change and that which would forever be the same. She brought me a peace I'd never known before – nor since. In each other's arms, we could block out the rest of the world. I miss her every day."

Cassandra couldn't help noticing him turning the gold band around his little finger. Somehow, she knew it was Brianna's ring. He noticed her watching him and held up his hand.

"Ya, it's Brianna's. I found it on the bureau the day after she died. I put it on and haven't taken it off. It makes me feel better." He dropped his hands to his sides. "I know, it sounds like an odd thing to do."

"No" she reassured him. "Not if it means something to you and makes you feel better. We all have our own way of grieving. This was yours."

He nodded. Then, noticing the setting sun said. "You need to be heading back to town. You shouldn't be out alone at night. I can ride back to town with you if you'd like."

She smiled up at him. "I appreciate the offer, but you don't need to do that. I'll be fine." She turned then, and started back towards her buggy. Jess caught up to her, walking alongside but not touching her. He helped her into the buggy, his hands lingering on her waist, her hands lingering on his shoulders.

"I'd like to see you again." He said softly, reluctantly releasing her.

She settled into the seat, a big smile on her face. "I'd like that. If you're brave enough, we can try the pie 'thing' again. I promise to have a better outcome next time." He laughed and waved her off as she turned and headed back to town.

CHAPTER TWENTY – A NEW ROMANCE? BETH WRITES

After all of the hostility and hoopla that went on between Jess and Cassandra, it seemed strange to see them together. In spite of the salted pie disaster, it seemed they had found common ground and were no longer at odds. Then again, I'm pretty sure the two nights Cassandra spent in Mort's jail contributed to her changed attitude. I would love to know what all our quiet sheriff had told her, because she was definitely a different woman. She also became more involved in the community, volunteering whenever possible and helping organize the church social events. Somehow it seemed she always wrangled Jess into helping her in those endeavors. It wasn't as if they were dating on a regular basis, just whenever an event such as a dance or social event came up. Occasionally, he would take her out to dinner, but that seemed to be as far as Jess wanted to explore the new relationship. Yet, I didn't notice anyone else taking Miss Peterson out to dinner or escorting her anywhere. I don't know if she declined the proposals or she wasn't receiving any offers.

I was glad Jess was being cautious. After eight years of mourning Brianna, he had a lot of things to work through. He felt guilty for being interested in someone new. Because Brianna had been his first real love, he didn't know how to move on. I wish it was something Slim or I could help him with, but this was one time my brother-in-law had to find his own path. He seemed to be negotiating it one day at a time. He was trying to balance his home responsibilities with his deputy responsibilities and his potential interest in Cassandra. He wasn't sure how another woman would fit into his and Marc's lives. He wasn't sure Cassandra would accept it if he used his gun. He remembered vividly how Brianna had reacted when she saw him shoot one of the Jamison brothers while defending Slim. It had led to their break up, something which had affected him deeply. He just wasn't ready to test how Cassandra would react when his past and present lives collided – which they were always seemed destined to do.

Jess hasn't visited Brianna's grave as often as he used to. Perhaps it was another way of moving on for him. If he said anything to Slim, Slim didn't tell me. However, it was obvious that Jess was much more comfortable being seen with Cassandra and appeared to be happier.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE – JESS VISITS BRIANNA

Once more Jess stood beside Brianna's grave. "I gotta talk to you. I don't know how to explain myself. I've found someone who I'm interested in. It's your friend, Cassandra. I think I'd like to see where it could go." He looked down and shook his head. "But I still love you, miss you every day. How can that be? Is it possible to love two people in one lifetime? Is my heart big enough to love both of you? Can she share me with you? Will she be jealous – jealous of my memories of you?" He looked upwards, to the night sky. Sighing, he said, "I don't know what to do."

As he dropped his hands to his sides, Brianna's ring fell off his finger and rolled across the ground to rest against her marker. In shock, he stared at it lying there. He'd worn that ring for eight years and never taken it off. For eight years, it had stayed on his hand through thick and thin, heat and cold, sickness and health – and it had just come off as easily as he'd slid it off himself. He bent to pick it up, only to have a sudden breeze swirl a dusting of dirt over it. He grabbed it anyways, holding it in the palm of his hand. He bounced it in his hand once before dropping it into his pocket. "I get it Bree. I still love you, but it is time to move on." A warm breeze caressed his neck and he knew everything would be all right.

**THE END**

Note 1: Mutton busting – for children 5 – 7 years old. The children try to stay on a sheep for 6 seconds. The first documented, organized mutton busting competition occurred in the 1980s, however the event had been around for many years, with its exact origins and date unknown.

Note 2: Contrary to popular belief, Palomino is a color not a breed of horse. It takes a particular combination of genetics to produce the desired golden color with white mane and tail. Even today, the exact science for producing the color has not been established.

Note 3: Although I researched it, the use of a writing slate versus pencil, dip pens (using inkwells) and paper is convoluted at best. Paper and pencil or dip pens were used after the Civil War yet writing slates continued to exist well into the 1930s. Slate boards (later called blackboards) were in existence in the late 1800s.

Note 4: Corporal punishment was accepted in schools through the 1900s before it was banned as cruel and unusual. Forms of punishment included spanking, paddling with an object such as a paddle board, hairbrush, yardstick, etc.


End file.
